


All The Idols Are Torn

by Sidnea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Captain America: Civil War Fic, Romance, Steve Roger's POV, introspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidnea/pseuds/Sidnea
Summary: Standing for what you believe is hard to do, but when it pits you against those you care about it can be even more so. Steve has left Bucky and settled his liberated team with T'Challa, but he needs time to figure out who he is in the wake of becoming a wanted criminal. A chance meeting with Darcy helps him come to terms with the choices he made to help Bucky and gives him perspective in regard to Tony and those that choose to stand on the other side of the line drawn by the Sokovia Accords.





	1. Crisis of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> First, I own nothing aside from a storyline that uses the characters and universe created by Marvel and Disney. This story and Steve's thoughts are parallels that I saw outlined in Captain America: Civil War and are not meant to represent what the characters' creators intended. This is fiction and is meant to be taken as such. It is flirt and foremost about a man that has lost everything he knew, struggled to find himself in a strange world and then been faced with his own failures. HYDRA and their ideology is still shaping the world even seventy years after he sacrificed himself to end their tyranny.

Crisis of faith.

If anything, three little words, can describe his current state of being then those three would be it. He has tried since awakening in that familiar, but wrong, faux hospital room and breaking free into a world alien to him. Tried to assimilate himself to this world and still be the man he was but finding out, at every turn, that his sacrifice was for nothing tears at his soul. The world is lost, slowly fading into shades of grey and his earnest work all those years ago, just yesterday, means nothing. They did not defeat that enemy; simply gave them a safe place to grow strong again. If Steve Rogers, skinny and sickly, knew where his over zealousness would get him he would have…Have…

Steve sighs because he knows that, that Steve would have still leaped at the chance to be more, do more. He would follow Bucky, the brother at his back, into anything. He’d told Tony, as he knelt exhausted and heart sick between him and Bucky, “He’s my friend.”

“So was I,” Tony replied, anger tinged with a bit of hurt. 

Steve felt the sting of the past tense, but that was the thing. Tony was a friend but Bucky was a brother. Tony’s interactions had always been colored by his resentments about the relationship Steve had with his father. The friendship had been grudging respect and combative camaraderie. They clashed like flint and steel; So, sometimes they sparked and set fire to everything around them. It had been different with him and Bucky. Bucky waded in whenever Steve let himself jump into the deep end and pulled him out before he could drown. Steve could not fail him again, once had been enough. It had been far too many and it would not happen again.

All his life Steve wanted to look out for the little guy, stand between the heavy boot heel of oppression and shield those who could not stand against it. His patriotic duty was just a sampling of that want it was never the be-all-and-end-all of his service. The fact was that he would kindly disobey orders if it meant helping others, but he would obliterate them if he had no other choice. 

The Sokovia Accords have a taste to them and that taste reminds him of the state of affairs when Nazi Germany began to regulate society and segregate the Jewish people from it. Even then, just yesterday and not seventy-one years in the past, he had fought for freedom. He fought for equality. These Accords put an arm band on the arm of every not-quite-human being on the planet. The Accords that Tony Stark, genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, could sign because he could walk away. He was just a man in a suit, but what about people that could not shrug off their inhuman differences. 

He could not believe that his life has come to this. His shield, Stark’s shield, the only symbol of what he stood for gone. Not his, never his. This body not the one God had given him, the one his mother had cradled and soothed, and maybe that was it. He had allowed men to play god with him and by doing so tread upon the toes of angels. His faith was shattered…In government and in God and the worst of all…Himself. The only faith left to him is that of his faith in his brothers, the Avengers. Tony still has his tattered faith even if they cannot agree on the Accords. One thing he can still hold true of himself is that his actions are his actions. Nat had tried to convince him that just because it would be easier to shift the weight of their actions to the shoulders of the world council it did not mean it was the wrong choice. However, Steve had, had enough of men in suits with secret agendas manipulating his actions from dark rooms and even darker intentions.

Captain America was no more. That idol was torn and the man left behind in the tattered remains is the antithesis. He is a criminal, number one on the world’s top ten. There are bigger, badder and meaner on the list but they fall somewhere at the bottom. Steve Rogers who’s end goal has always been to do good and protect. That is now his crime, but he cannot, would not change these facts. He is an idol torn, but he is also a tree. He is planted firmly between good and evil. 

Sighing, he scratches his fingertips through the four day growth of beard on his cheeks. His shaggy hair, longer than he has ever worn it, is covered by a red bandana. Steve shifts his booted feet and swings his leg over the seat of his motorcycle to stand on the pitted asphalt staring up at the neon light in the window. He is not sure he wants to go so far in concealing himself. Then he realizes that even if things go back to the way they were before he became public enemy number one he has been marked. Having his skin painted will only own the changes.

Reaching into the pocket of his worn jeans he pulls out the crumpled piece of paper. It is creased from repeated folding and unfolding. Staring down at the folded square he comes to a decision and then straightens his shoulder. Steve Rogers, the man, walks into the tattoo shop. It is brighter inside than he expected. The windows are painted against the world outside and the place is cleaner, too. The lobby area is empty except a petite girl with tousled brown hair, rectangular glasses perched on her nose and college text books open on the counter in front of her.

She looks up as the door closes and the bell jangles loudly over the buzz and whir of tattoo guns in the cubicles behind the girl. Her blue eyes widen for a moment and then she is smiling. Her full lips painted a vivid red and contrasting her pale skin tone.

“Hi,” he says, resisting the urge to smile like Steve Rogers would have done before the world started hunting him down. Instead, he steps up to the counter and slides the folded paper across the glass top. “I need a tattoo.”

She frowns up at him at his phrasing, but she reaches delicate fingers out and slips the paper from his. “Need,” she questions, “Not want?”

Now it is Steve that is frowning as he asks, “Is there a difference?”

“Well, yeah!” She tells him with a quirk lips. “Need is imperative while want is subjective.”

Steve thinks that over for a minute. He can feel his features settle into the pensive expression he has worn a lot since he awoke. The one good thing is that the facial hair and aviator sun-glasses hide it a little better than clean cut Steve ever could have. The girl sits patiently for a long while but she finally shifts uncomfortably bringing Steve out of his deep thoughts. Rolling his head on his neck he pulls the shades off his face and hooks them in the front of his leather vest. The girl almost jerks when she meets his gaze and he can tell that his conflicted eyes unsettle her, but then she relaxes and he can see compassion in the blue depths. 

“Are you sure a tattoo is what you need,” she asks. “It is forever, you know?”

“I know, but,” he says after too much thought, “I need a tattoo and I want that one.” He points his finger toward the still folded paper under her fingers. 

Steve is a little confused by the way she seems to still herself before flipping the folded paper open. Her mouth drops open when she sees the intricate design that will cover his entire back. The longer she stares at the convoluted tree with names and dates artistically creating the texture of bark and leaves the more nervous he becomes. 

“Maybe I should go elsewhere,” he mutters reaching for the paper, but she pulls it away from him. 

“No,” she yelps, but then she glances nervously around before leaning forward to peer up at him with knowing eyes. “No, that would be a really bad idea.”

“Really,” Steve asks feeling his chest tighten. This woman knows who he is and he feels like he has made an unforgivable mistake in judgement. His eyes leave the girl and he looks around the shop to insure that no one else has seen him. He does not see any security cameras but they are really small these days. “Damn,” he sighs and his eyes fall on the paper in her hands. He is fast he could have the paper back and be out the door in less than a minute. 

“You can’t,” she whispers even as she folds the paper and tucks it in her back pocket. “You heal,” she informs him like he is stupid and for a minute he is floored. Because he does heal and the scope of time to complete that tattoo is immense. Not to mention his body may treat the ink as a foreign matter and just expel it. 

Steve’s jaw clenches, “May I please have my drawing back, ma’am?”

“No,” she shakes her head and unconsciously steps away from the counter.

“I would hate to hurt you taking it back,” he says in a very low voice, “I have made enough mistakes today and I can’t make another by leaving that behind.” His words make her gasp and her eyes widen and then she is glaring at him.

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she snaps, “You’re the good guy!”

“Not anymore,” he growls making a side step around the counter.

“Bullshit,” she hisses, stepping closer and slapping the crumpled drawing into his chest. “You shouldn’t make threats you and I both know you wouldn’t keep.”

“I didn’t say I was going to hurt you,” he told her through clenched teeth as he fisted the paper in his hand and stuffed it in his vest pocket. “I said that I would hate to hurt you during my attempts to retrieve my drawing.” The girl looked slightly mollified but she was still giving him a chastising glare.

In the distance the buzzing-whir of a tattoo gun went silent and the gentle hum of indistinct voices rumbled closer. Steve stepped away from the girl, covered his eyes with his sun-glasses and exited the door in swift, fluid movements. 

“Wait,” Her voice stopped him as he was settling astride his bike. Steve was shocked that she had followed after him and even more so when she wrapped her tiny hands around his bicep. Frowning he looked down at the dainty hands that could never hope to encircle his arm and yet they clung to the bare flesh. He tensed making the muscles bulge and drawing a gasp from her lungs in the process. 

“Let go,” he told her with quiet authority. 

“No,” she shook her head licking her lips. “If you need a safe place I can help you.” She swallowed before she tightened her grasp.

“And, why would you help me—uh,” he frowned. 

“Darcy,” she told him. “My name is Darcy Lewis. Call me Darcy.”

“Fine,” He huffs feeling drained. “Why would you want to help me, Darcy?”

“Not every one thinks the Sokovia Accords are the answer,” she informed him. “I am a Poli-Sci major and debating the merits of the Sokovia Accords has been a hot topic in classes lately. I am also from a nice Jewish family; so, I bet you can guess which side I came down on during said debates. If those two aren’t enough of an answer then the fact that I am an Inhuman should be the nail in that coffin.”

Steve’s eyes widened. The debates about Inhuman vs. Human had been front page since SHIELD fell apart. Or, he supposed since he and Nat had torn it apart. He found his eyes roving over her trying to discern the truth in what she said, but she looked just as normal as any other petite college co-ed.

Seeing the question working its way to Steve’s lips Darcy blurted, “I never got to go through TerraGenesis. So, the gene is inactive in me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a say in how my people should be treated.”

Steve relaxed a little. They both tensed when the door opened and a burly guy with a fresh bandage taped to his tricep lumbered out followed by a diminutive woman whose skin was covered in ink. She had long glossy black hair and was busily admonishing the man not to use A&D ointment this time because she would not fix her work again if he destroyed it.

“Hey, Darce!” The woman said when she saw her standing beside Steve. “You going to lunch?”

Steve tensed and Darcy chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I was thinking about it,” she replied. “Steve just arrived in town and I was going to take him out to my place and get him settled in. If you don’t mind, Jinx.” 

“No, Wally was my last and Jazz will be finishing that butterfly any minute now.” Jinx indicated the truck pulling out of the parking lot. “We can hold down the fort. Take your man and get out of here. You need to get laid worse than I do.”

“I totally did not need him knowing that I haven’t had sex in forever,” Darcy snarked. “He’s a friend of a friend and sadly I don’t get to ride that.” She tossed her chin in his direction.

“Shame,” Jinx drawled, licking her lips and eyeing him up and down.

“Jazz would flip his lid if he saw you eyeing, Steve-o, like that.”

Steve tensed at the crude bi-play but stayed silent when Darcy dug her fingers into his arm. The woman known as Jinx laughed and gave him a leisurely once over. Her eyes seemed riveted to his lean hips and thighs where he sat astride his bike. It was disconcerting a little like everything else these last few months, but he would just have to roll with it.

After another parting sexual innuendo Jinx left them alone. Steve was not as innocent as Tony and the rest of the world wanted to think, but it still jolted him when he heard people openly speak about sex. The differences between then and now just highlighted his differences. He would never fit in, but he had gotten good at pretending.

“If I go get my stuff will you be gone when I come back out,” Darcy asked, tightening her hold on his arm. Taking a deep breath he tips his chin down and stares at the delicate fingers still clutching at him. His mind is circling around and around the way this girl, this stranger, has protected him today. She could have ignored that he was who he was and let him make a terrible mistake that would have given away his identity. 

It had only been two weeks since he left Bucky in Africa with T’Challa and liberated his team from the Raft. Steve was not good at this kind of life. Hell, even when SHIELD had his back he could barely keep his identity secret. Thinking of the names woven through out his drawing he can see now that it would have been a colossal mistake to get such a thing tattooed upon his skin, even if it was never meant to be seen. There are too many recognizable names among the ones he had lost on his watch to not be a dead give away. He probably should have stayed with the others, but he was pretty sure that his darker emotions would have done more harm than good. They were all dealing with their choice to follow him and it would do them no good to realize that he was floundering.

“Cap,” the girl said and he was surprised to hear her voice tremble. Glancing up sharply Steve was even more shocked to see earnestness in her troubled gaze. 

“What gave me away,” he asked.

“Coulson,” she whispered not trying to pretend that she didn’t understand his question. “I met him and his jackbooted thugs a few years back. My friend told me he was killed a couple months later.”

Steve’s breath stutters in his chest at the mention of the agent. “Not the name I expected you to know,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, well,” Darcy said trying for light hearted but failing, “I knew a few others but Coulson’s name will live in infamy with me.” Steve twitched his head in question and she elaborated. “He took-stole-borrowed my iPod. He gave it back but that was only because Thor—“

“Get your things,” he ordered, cutting off her explanation. It took everything in him not to physically betray his surprise at Darcy mentioning his team mate. Thor had returned to Earth a while back but he had not liked the idea of being under the government’s boot heel and had left for parts unknown. Darcy frowned and her lips pursed in a mulish pout, but Steve did not have time to argue with her. “I’m going to take you up on your offer, but you only have five minutes to get your things.”

“Or you’ll leave,” she scoffed, smacking his bicep.

“Or,” he drawled, in a low rumbling voice he had noted made women blush. “You’ll be leaving it behind.” He told her authoritatively, “I need to get in touch with your friend and the sooner the better.”

“What’s your hurry,” she groused as she stepped back toward the shop.

“Haven’t you heard,” he asked with grim expression, “The sky is falling.”

His words startled a laugh from Darcy, but it was quickly replaced by a worried frown. Swallowing, she turned to pull the door to the tattoo shop open, but then she froze. Her back still turned toward the brooding, form of the former hero of her most recent dreams Darcy asked, “Are you Chicken Little or Cocky Locky?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed after a few charged moments. “But I hope I’m the one that is trying to keep us all safe.”

Darcy turned back and smiled at him over her shoulder, “Me, too.” 

Then she was gone and the door was closing behind her. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that Darcy had gotten his reference the now vintage Disney cartoon. Like he, himself, was a forgotten bit of history until he was found and thawed many people did not know that the story was a commentary on how to sway society. Back then it had been about Hitler turning the world against the Jewish people. 

Foxy Loxy’s step-by-step guide Hitler’s own Mein Kampf carefully wrapped in the guise of a simple psychology text. It seemed to Steve that like in Hitler’s day that methodology was still effective in controlling the masses and setting them against a predetermined group of people by making them the impetus of the world’s problems. This time it was the Inhumans. The fact that the Sokovia Accords, policing those with differences, were signed in Vienna just seemed to stomp the similarities home for Steve.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Darcy stepped out pulling a back pack onto her shoulders. Slipping forward on the back to make room for Darcy he offered her his hand to steady her as she climbed on behind him. Standing up and kick-starting his bike Steve asked, “Where to?”

“Definitely not the cave,” she answered as she settled against his back. “I’m renting a small place over the diner in town.” Darcy pressing into his body from behind caught Steve by surprise. She was warm and soft and it had been a long time since he had felt a woman pressed into him like this. Steve nodded. He had passed the diner on the way out here to the tattoo shop. 

“Hold on,” he ordered, pulling her hands from his sides until her arms were wrapped firmly about his waist. Steve had to smile when he heard Darcy mutter, “I get to ride after all.”


	2. Mi Casa, Es Su Casa

“Mi casa, es su casa!” Darcy’s voice was overly bright and she was nervously gripping the straps of her pack in a white knuckled grasp. Her eyes were darting around the room and there is an almost adorable moue on her features as she slumps a little. Steve isn’t sure what has made her upset. Letting his eyes survey Darcy’s apartment, an efficiency that was basically two rooms a bathroom and the main room that did triple duty as living room, bedroom and kitchen. 

She had not been kidding when she said that she was renting a small place over the diner. In fact, Steve was pretty sure that the bathroom in his apartment in Brooklyn was larger than this, but it was clean and had a warmth to it that made the small space homey rather than cramped. Steve felt a little of his tension slip away as nostalgia creeped up on him. The apartment he and his mother had lived in had been only marginally larger than Darcy’s.

“This is nice,” he commented, taking a deep breath as he tamped down his longing for that place and time. 

“Well, it ain’t Stark Tower,” Darcy snorted, “but it’s home.” It was, he was sure, supposed to be nonchalant and flippant but Steve could hear the defensive undertones in her voice.

“You’re right,” Steve told her looking meaningfully into her eyes when she turned her indignant gaze on him. His voice had a slight edge when he continued, cutting off her defensive spluttering. “It isn’t like that at all. It’s better; I have never been the cold chrome and marble type. Don’t even get me started in on all that glass. Stark’s always been the butter and egg man I’m just a regular joe.” 

“Like you’ve ever been a regular—anything,” Darcy snorted. 

The look of disbelief that replaced the indignation on her face ticked him off more than her assumption that he would judge her accommodations and find them wanting. He felt his gut clench as the anger he usually kept well contained spiked. Steve had to fist his hands, take a few deep controlled breaths and move away from the tiny woman at his side. Stepping into the center of the small room in one long stride Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then turned back to his hostess. 

She was still standing, nervously beside the door. He thought, perhaps, her fingers had gone numb around the strap of her back pack from lack of blood flow to their tips. Darcy’s entire body was vibrating with tension and her eyes were steady on his balled fists. The wide-eyed look of panic in her eyes did little to sooth his temper, but at least now he had the motivation to reign it in and try to stop scaring the girl. Feeling his shoulders slump in shame Steve took a deep breath and looked down to the scuffed wood floor at his feet.

“Believe me when I say that I was considered less than regular. Everything special about me came from a bottle,” he told her with almost as much sneer in his voice as Tony had used. “I was a sickly, little punk that didn’t know when to stay down.”

“I tazed Thor,” she piped up looking perturbed. Steve was not sure where the non sequitur came from but it brought him up short for a moment as he studied Darcy Lewis. She was no longer tense but she was definitely still angry. 

“You tazed Thor, ma’am?” For a moment Steve felt a little bubble of happiness try to pierce the bone deep sadness that had settled over him in the last two weeks. 

“Yeah,” she nodded emphatically. “A little five foot, three inch tall Poly-Sci student that weighs a buck-ten laid the god o’ thunder out flat.”

Steve frowned, he was confused. She was looking at him expectantly as if there was some meaning to her words she was waiting for him to grasp. Truthfully, he could well imagine this woman knocking Thor on his backside. She had stood up to him and protected him but…Why?

“No super, secret serum,” she said rolling her eyes. “I was just trying to protect my friends. So, I am pretty sure that Steve Rogers has never been just a regular guy. And, geez, dude! Bitter much?”

He felt the sharp edge of her words and realized that he had been bitter. Tony’s words had been a splinter under Steve’s skin and it must have been festering. He was acting like a grade-A jackass. He should probably apologize.

Darcy told him thoughtfully with narrowed eyes. “When they first brought up the Sokovia Accords my professor gave us an assignment. He wanted us to write a paper about one person in history that personified the ideology that supported our position on the Sokovia Accords.”

“So, what? Did you write about Captain America,” he asked memories of all the well meaning, but creepy proclamations he had received from complete strangers since he had awakened. She just stared at him like he had grown a second head. 

Darcy snorted, inelegantly and Steve was not expecting the bark of laughter that filled the room as she slumped back against the door. It was disconcerting, really, because she was still laughing so hard she had tears on her cheeks a few minutes later. She was muttering and he thought he heard her muttering about, “Captain freaking America!”

“Listen,” Steve snapped as he watched her. Crossing his arms over his chest in that imposing way he had adopted after the serum gave him the body to pull it off. “I’m sure this is a real gas but I need to get in contact with Thor. He was dizzy with a dame before and after the Battle of New York but he never gave us a name. I gotta say you’re younger than I expected.” That sobered the girl up and her laughter stopped but then she was back to looking angry. 

“Dizzy,” Darcy hissed, dropping her pack by the door and moving faster than Steve expected to poke him in the chest. “Dame? Try Doctor, flyboy! Doctor Jane Foster big-damned-astrophysicist and not some silly air-head.”

“I was in the Army,” Steve corrected with a frown. He caught her hand as she poked him hard in the chest one more time. He had seen her wince. She wasn’t hurting him, but he was pretty sure one more direct hit on his sternum might do her poor digit more harm than good. “And I did not say Thor’s gal was dingy. I said he was crazy in love. So, he was not exactly thinking right last time I saw him. He made tracks before I could get the low down.”

Darcy frowned up at him but after a moment she relaxed and shrugged, “Sorry, but you sound like a black and white movie. My paper was on Dr. Abraham Erskine. His journals were declassified after the Congressional hearings a couple months ago. I watched Natasha Romanov testifying on CSPAN.”

“I didn’t know there were journals,” Steve muttered.He had over reacted…Again and had also made himself look like a self-centered egotist. 

Steve’s temper was becoming a real problem. It was easy enough to tamp down on at first. He had been able to pound out the discontent on one of the heavy bags. Push it away from his mind in the gym. Well, not away but aside at the very least. The cadre of doctors that tended to scurry like mice around him before he had escaped first to his own apartment in Brooklyn and then to the Avengers’ compound threw words around like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, grief and anxiety.

The brains at SHIELD’s medical facility had explained that PTSD was, sadly, all too normal and that he should not feel ashamed if he found himself experiencing any of the often debilitating symptoms. After all it was something that seven-point-eight percent of the people in America experienced. So far Steve was concerned he was exhibiting a text book case. 

He knew because he had read up on Post Traumatic Stress after he got his place in Brooklyn; not, because he had bothered to tell the medical staff about the nightmares, flashbacks and anger. He does not trust SHIELD’s medical staff not to use the disorder to get a foothold and control of him with it. Internally, he understood that his distrust could also be part of the disorder, but really he felt vindicated in keeping his symptoms to himself. Because parts of SHIELD actually had proven to be dishonest in the end.

Steve had done a fair bit of reading since he awoke from his stent as an Icee-Cap, to use Tony’s phraseology. The very fact that he was experiencing PTSD was like a giant flashing warning light. The serum had kept his body at peak condition and yet he was experiencing these psychological episodes; perhaps Dr. Erskine had been wrong about Steve being the right man for the program.

“He wrote about you,” she informed him quietly when the silence had stretched too long and his thoughts had become uncomfortable. “His last entry was the night before the procedure. I think he might have been a little drunk because his writing was one hundred percent worse than other entries.”

“He brought a bottle of schnapps to my barracks and then remembered I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink anything.” Steve smiled, fondly. “He drank for both of us.” Darcy seemed pleased that she had guessed correctly about Dr. Erskine’s final journal entry. “He made me promise to always be a good man.”

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded. He watched as she moved to settle on the thread bare sofa. “He waxed almost poetic about you and your determination and compassion.”

Steve moved to the other side of the couch and gestured with his hand, “May I?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said with a bemused smile. 

Steve smiled and slowly sat down on the lumpy flowered sofa. Relaxing he rubbed a hand over his face. Exhaustion was starting to push the envelope of his endurance. It had been three days since he had slept and even then it was a fitful and nightmare riddled sleep. Rolling his head on his shoulders Steve looked at the woman beside him. Her eyes were on him but she did not seem to see him as she sat so quietly beside him.

“You know,” he said conversationally after a long moment watching her. “I am not really an arrogant ass on purpose. A little jaded maybe, but that isn’t an excuse for the egotism. Usually words like, ‘I had to write a paper’, are followed by and I wrote all about you.”

She looked taken aback for a moment and then her bright eyes and pouty lips were smiling at him. It felt like a punch to the gut or like sunshine after a summer rain. “Wow!” She laughed, “That is kind’a creepy.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. There had been several hundred creepy proclamations in the nearly two years he had been awake. Remembering her story about Agent Coulson he gave her a rueful grin and said, “The first time I met Agent Coulson he told me that he watched me while I was sleeping. At the time, I was a little over a month from the ice and I had spent all my time alone in the SHIELD provided bunk and gymnasium. He was one of only a few people I had been in contact with besides Director Fury.”

“He watched you while you were sleeping,” she laughed. “Who knew that ol’ stone face was a creepy, stalker dude? I mean, I already knew he was an iPod thief, but perv-ing on Captain America?” 

Steve was glad they had moved away from the deeper and more painful topics; she was a very pretty young woman. She was equal parts serious and exuberant and Steve found himself thinking about Wanda. She was young and had been stuck with a group of super hero, old geezers. Darcy although a couple years older than Wanda would be good for her. 

“I’m not sure about perv-ing,” Steve shook his head feeling his cheeks heat. “I think he was just trying to segue into asking me to sign his Captain America trading cards.”

“OMG! What a geek,” Darcy squealed and hopped so that her feet were under her and she was kneeling on her side of the couch. She bounced with every word as she mused, “Son of Coul is a total Captain America Fanboy with trading cards and everything. Did you make his fanboy heart got pitter-pat and sign his cards?” 

Steve was surprised by her quick movement and he barely suppressed the instinctual reaction that her unexpected action caused in him. His heart was hammering in his chest and he had to consciously relax his tensed muscles when he realized that she was not about to attack. He needed to get a handle on himself before he hurt someone.

“I told him I would,” Steve sighed, “But Loki killed him before I had the chance. He had them in his suit coat when he died. Director Fury tossed them, blood and all, on the table in front of the Avengers like a gauntlet. In tribute we each took one into the Battle of New York with us.”

“Son of Coul would have liked that,” She murmured as she settled back on the couch.

“I hope so.” Steve took a deep breath and let his head fall to the back of the sofa. Closing his eyes he tried to stop his mind from making corollaries between Agent Coulson and Peggy, his Peggy, being gone. 

She had never really been his, though, because he had missed their date. “You’re late,” she had admonished him when he visited her in the nursing home. “It's been so long...So, long.” She’d cried and broken his already shattered heart. Steve could only clasp her hands in his and try to comfort her, “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl; not when she owes me a dance.” They never did get their dance. 

“Hey,” Darcy’s soft whisper and her cool fingers grazing his cheek startled him out of his morose thoughts. Steve jerked upright and shifted away from her as if he’d been burned. “Sorry,” she lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “I was just…You—you are crying.”

Steve lifted his own hand to his face and was shocked to find it wet. Embarrassed, he stood up and crossed the room turning his back on Darcy as he tried to dry his tears. He nearly panicked when they just kept coming pouring down his cheeks. 

Grasping the counter he bowed his head and squeezed his eyes closed. Everything, everything he fought for was gone now. What the hell was left for him in this terrible, fucked up world. He was so caught up in his maudlin thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when arms wrapped around his waist and a soft, warm body pressed into his back. Darcy did not say anything. She just held him tight until he could reign in his emotions and gently extricate himself from her comforting embrace.

Moving away from her Steve gave Darcy a bashful smile and murmured, “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it,” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. Her voice was low and respectful, almost reverent when she added, “What was her name?”

“How did you—“ Steve asked in confusion.

“You had a little smile on your face,” she gestured toward the sofa where they had been sitting. “Then you weren’t smiling anymore. I never knew that grief had a face until I saw yours and I know it isn’t Coulson.”

“Her name was Peggy,” Steve muttered after a few moments, “She died three weeks ago.” He Looked up to give her a sad little smile and was surprised that her eyes had filled with tears. “She had her life; one she lived without me. Now, the life that I have been given doesn’t give me time to live it, the good or the bad.”

“Then just take it,” Darcy told him fiercely. 

“Easier said than done,” he sighed. Digging into his pocket he pulled out the keys to his bike. “I’m going for a ride.”

***

Steve road around for hours. It was easy in a place like this where there were miles upon miles of empty road. At sunset he parked his bike on the side of the road and watched the sky shift to from fiery orange to dark grey streaked with crimson overtones. As soon as the sun disappeared behind the horizon he turned his bike back toward Darcy’s apartment.

It was a little after seven when he parked his bike behind the diner. Steve was just dismounting when the back door opened and a woman stepped out of the kitchen lugging a large garbage can. He hurried over and offered, “Here let me help.”

The woman looked startled for a moment but then smiled as he hefted the over filled garbage can and upended it in the dumpster. “Thanks,” she said smoothing her hands over her uniform. “My name is Flo.”

“Steve,” he said, offering his hand. Flo took it and he gently clasped it for just a moment the way his Ma had taught him. 

“You Darcy’s man?”

“Uh…No, ma’am. She’s just a friend.” Steve explained with a shy smile. 

“She’s a good girl,” Flo told him with a shrewd look. “She’s been with us about six months. She isn’t the kind of girl that has men wandering in and out her door.” 

“I’m not wandering in and out, ma’am.” Steve knew Flo was talking about sex. He, also, knew he was blushing as he spoke but there seemed to be no stopping it. “She’s a friend that’s all.”

Flo studied him for a long time and then nodded before heading back into the diner’s back door. Steve turned, knowing that Flo was watching him as he mounted the metal stairs that lead up to Darcy’s apartment. He took them two at a time, as always, enjoying the ease with which his body moved. He was a long way from that ninety-four pound asthmatic with heart palpitations.

At the top of the stairs he stopped and knocked on the door. She did not answer immediately and he started to wonder if she had gone out, but then he heard her calling, “It’s open!” That made Steve frown. 

Reaching out he twisted the knob and sure enough it was not locked. Stepping inside he shut and locked the door before turning to glare sternly at Darcy. She was flitting around the room looking for something when he growled, “Why was the door unlocked?”

“I was in the shower,” she told him moments before she whooped triumphantly and brandished a hair tie in the air. Steve followed her to the door of the bathroom and watched as she quickly pulled her silky looking hair into a ponytail at the top of her head.

“Which,” Steve said, sternly. “Is even more reason that the door should have been locked.”

“Normally,” she assured him as she pulled the top off of a tube of lipstick. He watched her lean closer to the mirror and slick the deep red over her lips. “It would have been locked, but I wasn’t sure when you would get back and I was in the shower.” It was as she turned around to exit the bathroom that he realized Darcy was wearing a waitress’ uniform just like Flo’s.

“Why are you dressed like that,” he asked. 

“College doesn’t pay for its self,” she said, brushing passed him into the main room. “I’m working the graveyard shift downstairs.” She told him as she started tossing the couch cushions on the floor and then she was struggling to pull something from inside. Nudging her to the side Steve grasped the bar and pulled. When it opened to reveal a full sized bed he laughed, delighted.

“Is this a Goode bed,” Steve asked, excited. He could not contain his happy smile as he watched Darcy straighten the sheets and fluff the pillows that had been mashed between the folded sides of the mattress. 

“Well,” Darcy glanced over studying him for a moment before saying, “what do you mean a good bed?” 

“As in made by Mrs. Goode,” Steve said enthusiastically And just a bit wistfully. “My ma had a cabinet bed before she died. It was ancient when we found it at a charity bazaar but I fixed it up as best I could. I figure this has to be something made by Sarah Goode’s descendants or something.”

“Sarah Goode,” Darcy asked and he could tell her interest had been peaked. 

“She was an inventor,” Steve explained. “She was born a slave but after the civil war she had a furniture store.”

“Get out o’ here,” Darcy exclaimed.

“It's true,” he nodded, smiling. A few months ago he would have taken those words literally and Steve felt he had made good progress from the duck out of water he had been in this new world. “She was the first African-American woman to receive a patent. She designed a cabinet that doubled as a desk by day and a bed by night.”

“And all this time I thought sofa beds were the grotty younger cousin of Murphy beds.”

“Nah,” Steve shook his head as he eased himself down on the thin mattress. “Murphy beds came out later. Probably about twenty-five or thirty years later.”

“That is pretty amazing,” Darcy murmured as she sat down at the end of the bed. “You know it is pretty sad information like that isn’t common knowledge any more.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “She was a kind of hero for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was like ten when we found it. I spent a lot of time at the desk during the day doing my studies and learning to draw.” He confided, “At night when my mother got off her shift at the hospital she had a soft play to sleep. When she got sick she spent a lot more time in that bed. Sarah Goode was definitely admired by the both of us. Plus, her name was Sarah like my mother.”

“You mother was sick,” Darcy asked.

“Tuberculosis,” he told her sadly. “She got sick at work and never really shook it. I was thirteen and not the healthiest kid, but I refused to send her to the lunger ward. They would have kept me out and I would rather take my chances than let her die alone like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, reaching over and patting his hand. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, covering her hand with his. “So, what about you Darcy Lewis?”

“What,” she questioned. 

“Who was your hero,” he asked.

“Caresse Crosby,” She told him with a mischievous smile that made Steve just a little afraid. 

“And why is Caresse Crosby your hero,” he asked. Pretty sure that he was going to rue asking but he could not help himself. “I know that name Steve admitted; she was part of a group Women Against War.”

“Well,” Darcy told him in a loud whisper and leaning conspiratorially toward him. “Although I agree that war is a terrible thing I also know sometimes it is unavoidable. There are two reasons for my semi-worship of the ground she walked on, actually.”

“Really,” Steve asked ignoring the almost sacrilegious words. It still bothered him a little realizing that God was not treated as respectfully as in his day, but he had learned to temper his responses. “And what would those two reasons be?”

“First, and most definitely my personal favorite reason is that she Invented the modern brassiere.” Darcy smiled, and swept a hand in front of her chest drawing his gaze to her luscious breasts. “For obvious reasons,” she told him with a laugh before reaching out and smacking his shoulder. “Eyes up here, soldier!” 

“Pardon me,” Steve stammered as his gaze shot to hers. 

“It's okay,” she shook her head, “I kind’a invited that one, but I won’t be as forgiving in future.”

“Understood,” he nodded. “And reason number two?”

Darcy’s mischievous smile grew even more devilish as she told him, “She named her dog Clytoris.” She laughed when Steve jerked back in surprise and his light blush ramped up by twenty shades. “Totally spelled it differently, but all I could think about when I read that was whether she called the dog Clit for short. I was laughing so hard I got kicked out of the library.”

Steve was slightly scandalized. His life with Stark and the rest of the Avengers was still on the sheltered side. Lord knows that Nat had tried to get him a more hands on tutorial but it had been too soon and he still had Peggy.

“Hey, you aren’t going to have a stroke or something are you,” Darcy asked, her eyes wide with concern. “I didn’t think that shade of red was even possible.”

“I can’t have a stroke,” he told her willing his cheeks to cool. 

“Well, you are like fifty-shades of red right now.” Darcy stood up cupping his cheek and patting it as she swept her apron up from the floor and headed for the door. “You try to get some sleep my shift downstairs isn’t over ‘til four so you’ll have the bed all to yourself.”


	3. SITREP & PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve touches base with his team and gets his hands on something else, too.

Steve was exhausted!

So, it was just his luck that sleep was the last thing his body, or mind, seemed ready to do. His blush was gone now but he had to admit Darcy was pretty entertaining. Although, he was a little unnerved by Darcy’s parting comments.

He had, actually, gotten that whole fifty-shades reference. It had been kind of frightening at the tower when Pepper, Natasha, Dr. Foster and almost every other female in the building had taken to huddling around the coffee pot to discuss the books, chapter-by-chapter. Now, Steve and every other man at the tower knew far more than they ever wanted to know about some abusive asshole named Christian Grey. Steve truly hoped that was not what women in this day and age were looking for in a man because he was not willing to dominate a woman to find pleasure. Steve liked strong, capable women that would never allow a man to demean them. It had, frankly, surprised him that Natasha and Pepper had been involved in the discussions. 

After Darcy went down for her shift he had tried to relax and go to sleep. When that plan failed miserably he dug the SAT phone out of his duffle bag and called T’Challa for an update. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, Your Highness.” Steve apologized when he realized that he was calling from the New Mexico time zone and not New York’s. Two hours really did make a difference when dealing with international calls; even if he had not had to deal with things like that when he was in Europe before the ice. No one left in the States to call home to. 

“Do not fret,” T’Challa commanded in a soothing voice. “As you are aware from your stay here my day starts well before now.”

“Yes,” Steve smiled. “You are very dedicated.”

“Thank you, Captain.” T’Challa’s voice warmed and Steve was glad that he had offered the man his praise. T’Challa was a good ally and he was helping Steve far more that he felt he deserved. 

“You are welcome,” Steve assured. Settling on the side of the sofa-bed he ran a hand over his face. “I was calling for an update.” They settled in and Steve listened quietly while T’Challa filled him in about his team.

Sam was fitting in well and was busy training with the Wakandan warriors in their ancient fighting style. It had been more than a week since Steve had spoken to the King of Wakanda and the news of Natasha Romanov reaching out to the ruler seeking asylum was both welcome and disheartening.

Nat had helped Steve and in doing so had once again painted a target on her back. She was a criminal, again. Going straight had meant a lot to Natasha and yet she had toed over the line of the Sokovia Accords to help him. Steve knew that Peggy would say he should respect Nat’s choices enough to let them be hers alone, but Natasha was his friend. It was only right to feel responsible for screwing up their lives whether there was a choice given or not. 

Clint’s family had arrived the day after Steve left Africa and flew back to the United States. Those Accords needed to be nullified because everyone he cared about was being hurt by them; even Tony whether he wanted to believe it or not. T’Challa’s scientists had not made much progress in finding a way to help mend Bucky’s mind, but they had developed an amazing new prosthetic arm for him. Lang was over the moon working in a lab that T’Challa provided him. Wanda, much to Steve’s dismay, seemed to be keeping to herself again. Though, T’Challa did say that she had been seen a few times in one of the small villages close by helping to care for the sick, but she rarely spoke to anyone aside for answering direct inquiries.

Not for the first time Steve wished he could get Darcy in the other girls sphere, but that seemed selfish. He was not sure if that desire was for Wanda’s benefit or his own. He was very sure that Darcy’s life would not be enhanced by associations with Steve or the rest of the group. Most likely, she would be endangered. Speaking with T’Challa had relieved Steve’s immediate worries about his team. The young ruler had proven to be a wise and generous new friend. Finally, Steve was able to broach the true reason for his call.

“Kamau will be returned to you, but not before he can be assured his freedom.” It had been T’Challa’s idea to call Bucky, Kamau which meant ‘silent warrior’; or at least that was Steve’s understanding. The name change was supposed to keep Bucky’s presence in Wakanda secret. “Your friend knows that you stand with him.”

“I know,” Steve assured him. “It’s just he deserves a chance at a real life—I can’t fail him, again, I won’t.”

“You are loyal, Captain, a man of deep moral convictions and compassion. You shoulder the burden of your choices, for yourself and those who follow you.” The rich accented words of the Wakandan ruler made Steve uncomfortable. “This makes you a great leader; those under your command know that you will stand with them.”

“Not always,” Steve sighed, heavily. 

“Stark is not a leader,” T’Challa answered and Steve wondered how the King had known he was speaking about Tony. “But, neither is he a follower.”

“He was an integral part of the team,” Steve argued.

“When it suited him,” T’Challa answered. “His actions in regard to the Accords were not that of a teammate or a leader.” 

“He made the choice that was right for him,” Steve pressed. 

“Yes,” T’Challa agreed. “Not what is right for his team, but the choice that removed responsibility from his shoulders. For all his wealth, influence and philanthropy he lacks the fortitude needed to make the hard call and then live with the consequences.”

“I—I wish sometimes that I felt the same,” Steve sighed, weary.

“As do all who wear the mantle of leadership.” T’Challa agreed, also sounding tired. Steve closed his eyes feeling the weight of T’Challa’s loss more keenly. 

“I’m sorry, again, for your loss.” Steve told the new King. “This is unfair to you. I should not have imposed.”

“There is no imposition, Captain. Though, there are things that you are responsible for, my father’s death is not one of them. Neither is it that of Kamau. There are forces at work, dark and terrible. It is good to know whom it is we can trust in the desperate days ahead.” T’Challa’s voice vibrated with power and determination as he spoke and it went a long way to sooth Steve. “Stark will not reach out to you, Captain. He is not the type of man to willingly debase himself in search of friendship. It is, however, your strength. It is also what makes you weak. What is coming no man can withstand such a weight alone. Stark will need his friends.”

Steve was silent for a long moment and T’Challa being the perceptive man that he was let the silence go unbroken. Closing his eyes Steve thought about all that had happened in the last two years. It was strange to think that upon finding himself awake in an alien world he thought things could not get worse. Then the Battle of New York happened and Steve had to admit that he had then raised the bar for worse higher only to realize in the last few weeks and months that there would always be worse. He hated it. His whole life’s work had been for nothing; HYDRA was alive and well. SHIELD was a bloody heap and the Avengers were either wanted criminals or government lackeys.

Muttering a curse Steve sighed, “I understand. Thank you, Your Highness.” He would have to have to over an olive branch and make an apology. As angry as Tony made him the billionaire was a friend. 

Stowing the SAT phone back in his bag Steve pulled on his running clothes, tee shirt, sweatpants and a zippered hoody. He slipped his running shoes on and tied them tight. He would not be able to sleep tonight and as much as his bike ride earlier had helped it was not as cathartic as a body punishing run would be. He ran for an hour flat out circuiting the small town more than once in that time. By the time he arrived back at the diner he was not only more than exhausted he was starving. It was almost eleven-thirty and the small parking lot in front of the diner was still half full. 

Rounding the side of the building he could see Flo and Darcy each offering smiles and coffee as they worked their tables. He watched as Darcy laughed at something a group of college aged girls were saying as she topped off their cups. He found his eyes drawn to the curve of her neck as she threw her head back. She was so pale and the smooth expanse of skin was like a siren’s call to his artist’s brain. Her darkly painted full lips were another temptation; Darcy Lewis is a very beautiful woman and he itched to do more than draw her. 

“Off limits,” he growled to himself. Ripping the zipper down he shrugged the hoody off his shoulders. Pulling the door open he slung the dark material over one shoulder. 

Both Darcy and Flo looked over as the bell sounded over the door. Darcy’s smile seemed to freeze for a moment but she raked her eyes over him in what Steve recognized as appreciation. It may not have happened much before the serum but now it happened quite frequently. Especially when he was fresh off a run. It took a lot of exertion for him to work up a sweat and when he did it was a lot ‘prettier’ than other mere humans; at least, that is what Barton said.

Usually, Steve tried to ignore those kinds of looks but he felt a little jolt of pride that Darcy seemed to like what she saw. She blushed prettily when her eyes rose to meet his knowing gaze after lingering on his mid-section longer than was proper. Steve just smiled and quirked and eyebrow teasingly. He was unaccountably happy when she rolled her eyes and hitched a thumb toward a table behind her.

Steve turned and nodded toward Flo and then slid into the booth. He picked up the menu from behind the napkin holder as he listened to the young ladies in the booth Darcy just left giggle and whisper about him. He had learned pretty early that women these days were a little more vocal than they had been in his day, but aside from how they spoke of him the things they said were pretty much the same. Mostly, he did not blush like a scared virgin anymore and just ignored the way they objectified him; at least they were just lusting over him like a normal man and not tittering about Captain America.

“Trying to decide if you want to order off it or take it prisoner?” Darcy questioned with a warm little laugh. She turned the coffee mug over in front of him and poured him a cup as she waited for his answer.

“What,” he asked, confused. Looking up at her Steve was surprised at how tiny she was next to him. “Thanks.” Mechanically, he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug. 

“You’re making a stern frowny face,” Darcy told him tapping the end of her pen against his shoulder. She attempted to demonstrate the look for him but he was pretty sure it was cuter on her than it was on him. 

“Sorry,” he shrugged, glancing at the giggling gaggle of girls and consciously smoothed his features. Darcy’s eyes followed his and she hip-checked his shoulder when the pensive look started to settle over his face again. Her action startled him and he looked back to her and found her smiling softly.

“Don’t worry about that,” she told him with a tip of her head to the girls. “My personal philosophy is let ‘em say what they want but if they try and touch taze ‘em in the ba-er-groin. Of course you are probably too much a gentleman to taze a girl.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed in concern and he switched his attention from the girls two booths away to study the other patrons. He noted two tables of rowdy young men all raucously talking about a ‘tasty little piece of ass with blow-me lips’. Realizing that they were talking about Darcy made him stiffen and his grip tighten on the cup in his hands. There was an ominous ‘tink’ and then Steve felt something sharp digging into his palms and hot coffee flowing over his wrists and fingers.

Darcy gasped and he jerked his hands away from the demolished wreckage that was once his coffee mug. Steve tensed to move, but her hand was planted firmly on his shoulder holding him in place. 

“I am so sorry, Steve!” Darcy said a little louder than was necessary. It made his gaze fly around the room to judge the reactions of the other customers. “The cup must have been cold and then the hot coffee, thermal shock.” While she was talking she set the coffee pot on the table and cleaned away the pottery shards and wiped up the coffee.

Flo brought Darcy more towels, a damp cloth and another coffee mug to help her with the mess. Embarrassed, Steve thanked them for the coffee and apologized for the broken cup.

“It isn’t the first cup we’ve lost and it won’t be the last,” Flo told him absently. “If they aren’t walking out the door they are breaking for no reason at all.” 

Steve spent the rest of Darcy’s shift seated in that booth slowly making his way through what was quite possibly the best damned waffles he had ever tasted and trying to compose a letter to Tony. He had asked Darcy for note paper and a pen when she brought the first plate of waffles, eggs and bacon; by the almost pinched look on her face he knew she did not like the reasons for his meandering. 

He had muttered, “I can’t sleep and I have not eaten as good in a day or so. I’m gonna sit here eat these,” he gestured to his second plate of waffles, “And try and choke down a superhero-sized portion of humble pie. So, could I please get the paper and pen?”

Darcy had stared at him. Her eyes studying his face and he was pretty sure that the strain was evident on his features. The spot between his eyebrows that had been deeply etched even before his Ma died was aching. Steve thought his jaw might crack and his teeth shatter from the tension. Then she had nodded and gone to find him the things he asked for. She placed a sheave of paper beside his plate and then gently placed a ball point pen on top of the pristine white sheets. 

“Thanks, Doll.” Steve murmured, contemplatively. He expected her to leave him to his food, both physical and metaphorical, and so when she tenderly combed her fingers into the scruffy hair at his temple and let her thumb sooth the spot between his brows he could not breathe for a moment. By the time he took a shuddering breath she was moving away to clear the table vacated by the young girls.

Steve was all balled up and it took him until he had finished the second plate of waffles, and drank his fourth cup o’ joe to be able to put pen to paper. He was crumpling his sixth attempt at putting his thoughts, feelings and apology down on paper when the raucous group of guys that had continued to quietly, and not so quietly, speak disrespectfully about Darcy got up to leave. He was just thinking that he would be able to relax, but then the ring-leader decided to have a bash at Darcy. 

Her gasp drew everyone’s attention and even though Steve could not see clearly what the dumb punk did; the placement of the guys arm was all too obvious. He had ignored, barely, the things the creep said all night. But disrespectful words were trumped by the fact that Steve was pretty sure the guys hand was planted firmly on Darcy’s breast; and that is something that he would not let slide. 

Darcy reacted quickly raising her arms and thrusting the guys hand away. Unfortunately, and fortunately, she was still carrying a full pot of coffee. So, her move did not only knock the guy away from her it also sent scalding coffee raining over her and the twerp. Steve was on his feet and across the room in three large strides. In the seconds it took him to react Darcy kneed the offending man in the groin and shoved him back. 

One of the guys stupider friends grabbed Darcy by the arm. They either did not notice Steve’s presence or did not care. Steve reacted. It was fast, quicker than a snake’s strike, and he had the guy’s arm twisted painfully behind his back with his face and chest pressed into the table top. With one judicious push he could dislocate the man’s shoulder; just an inch more and Steve would feel the pop vibrating through his fingers. His vision was dark, almost fogged, and he could only hear a static buzzing in his ears.

It was Darcy’s hand settling over the hand, the one that Steve was not contemplating popping the guy’s arm out of its socket with, that brought the room back into focus and the volume back up to sharp clarity. Finding that the hand she was frantically clasping was pressing the ball point pen to rest menacingly against the man’s jugular shocked the hell out of him. Releasing his hold on both the man and the weapon Steve quickly backed away from the table. 

To say that all involved were shaken was an understatement. Steve backed himself into the counter and ended up falling onto one of the stools. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight and his head felt light and Steve could not draw in a deep enough breath the save his life. The feeling was so familiar; something he lived with for twenty-five years. Only, this was not asthma it was so much worse because the weight crushing his chest was panic. 

He raised frightened eyes and found Darcy directly in front of him between his knees. Steve’s eyes darted around the diner. He was aware of the people across the room. A burly man in a stained apron was shoving the drunken men back into the booth, the other customers were sitting in stunned silence and Flo was somewhere to his left. Darcy’s voice was soft, soothing as she coaxed him into relaxing. Her dainty hands were stroking his cheek and along his neck in gentling little pets. 

“Shh, Shh!” Darcy murmured, “Relax—you have to relax, Steve.” She continued the calming litany of words until the tightness began to ease and Steve was finally able to pull in a deep breath. “That’s it—that’s better.”

“Darcy,” he said raggedly. His gaze honed in on her cheek, throat and clavicle that were blotched with sunburn-like redness. “First degree burn.”

“Flo,” Steve turned to the other waitress. 

“Yes, Steve?” The older woman moved forward her fingers clutching her order pad. 

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “It's a superficial burn we need cool, not ice cold, and wet towels. Clean if you have them. If not a pitcher of cool water will have to do.” 

Flo gave a single nod and then hurried into the kitchen. The man in the apron stood between the drunken men and Darcy and Steve Pushing a cell phone into his pants pocket. His beefy arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as he watched Steve. 

Turning back to Darcy he gently pulled her hands down so he could make sure the burns there were not worse than the others. Sighing when they turned out to be only slightly worse. The swelling there was more pronounced but there were no blisters. Noting that there was a coffee stain slashed across the front of her uniform Steve immediately reached for the zipper and tugged it down. Making sure that the others in the room would not be able to see her exposed chest before efficiently pulling the wet fabric away from her chest. 

She squawked but he kept his eyes on her face as he explained, “Leaving it against your skin will only make the burn worse, Doll.” 

“Yeah, but your not the one with your unmentionables on display,” she groused. 

“I’ll give you my shirt once we see to your battle wounds,” Steve told her with a soft smile using gentle fingers to tuck her hair behind her ears. He smiled reassuringly before giving the entire room his most authoritative glare he assured her, “No ones gonna look.”

“We’ll be having a talk about this,” she informed him.

“I’ll look forward to it, Doll.” He Grinned and carefully pressed the wet towels over her burns when Flo brought them. “They need to stay on for a few minutes at least.” 

Reaching back to grasp the neck of his tee shirt Steve pulled it over his head and pushed it over hers making her laugh and try to shake her hair from her face. The material was stretched out and a few sizes too large for her but it covered her towel covered cleavage. He liked the stunned way she looked at him. 

Unlike him, Darcy let her eyes dip below his neck. Her eyelashes fluttered. He thought she probably liked what she saw. Steve winked when she finally looked back up and met his gaze. standing up he shifter her aside. Smiling when her cheeks flushed. 

Steve could hear sirens in the distance and it would not do to be found without a shirt. Chucking her under the chin teasingly Steve went to his table and pulled his hoody on zipping it to the neck and stuffing the half abandoned attempts at writing to Tony into the pockets. He debated whether or not to ditch the scene, but if he did Flo might tell the police that he was with Darcy. It would only be a matter of time before helping him would bring bigger trouble to her door than some soused creeps. 

Cautiously, he approached the man in the apron. “The police will be here in a few minutes.”

“Seemed the thing to do, son,” the older man said gruffly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed looking embarrassed.

“That was quite a show.” Steve had the decency to wince at the meaning behind the man’s words. “I’m Pops.”

“Steve,” he said softly taking the man’s hand for a firm shake. Rubbing a hand over his face he glanced toward Darcy. “I didn’t mean to flip my wig.” 

“Yeah,” Pops nodded, “I could tell.” Hearing that the other man point out his loss of control made Steve feel almost sick. “Seen my fair share of Post Traumatic Stress.”

“Not too proud of that,” Steve said with a weary sigh. “She didn’t want me to get involved, but it was hard enough listening while they flapped their lips. Them touching her made me blow a fuse.”

“I can’t fault you for that,” the man said with a smirk, “and at least no one died.”

Steve paled. It had been a very close thing and he was sure the other man knew as much. Realizing time is short he gestures to where Darcy and Flo are standing and Steve is happy that Pops follows him across the room. Flo is fussing with the wet towel she is holding to Darcy’s face and neck when they stop beside them. Steve gently pulls the towels from her arm studying the still pinked flesh critically. Flo removes the towel from Darcy’s face and moves so that Steve can check the burn there. His fingers are soft when he tilts her head to the side and he feels her tense. She has obviously heard the sirens. 

“Steve,” she gasps with wide eyes. They are filled with—he thinks—fear and it makes his chest towing and he feels his stomach flip just a little at the realization. Looking to Pops and Flo Steve gives them his most authoritative voice.

“You don’t know me,” He tells them firmly. “I am just a customer that got involved in a scuffle.”

“But,” Darcy tries to interrupt. 

“No, buts, Darcy!” Steve snaps, but he softens his tone when her eyes narrow. Making a girl like Darcy angry will only make her countermand his directions. He has dealt with Tony too often not to realize that. “Listen, please, all of you.” 

Flo is looking at him in confusion and Darcy nods but does not seem happy about it. Catching Pops’ eyes he says with quiet urgency, “No one can know that I was with Darcy before we met here in the diner. With the way things are it will put her in danger.” 

“You should have left,” she hissed. “We both know that you could have been long gone before they arrived.”

“I could,” Steve nodded, “But Flo knew I was in your apartment and probably Pops, too. If I had ditched you here and they told the police that you knew me then—

He left the rest unsaid, but Darcy finished for him. “Then the jack-booted thugs would have disappeared me.” She was thoughtful for a moment before she added, “Only SHIELD doesn’t exist any longer.”

“But what does exist is far worse,” Steve informed her. “At least for people that find themselves on the wrong side of the line.”

“Disappearing isn’t some kinda code for WITSEC,” Pops asked, brow furrowed. 

“No,” Steve shook his head. “It generally means either death or internment on the RAFT.”

“Raft,” Flo asked. She was pale and her hands were clenched in front of her chest wringing the towel in her fingers. Steve looked at the three faces watching him so intently and made a quick decision. Secrets led to a stronger and more insidious HYDRA. 

“It's a submersible containment facility located in the Atlantic Ocean about ten miles off the coast of New York. It was built to house the most dangerous criminals both human and inhuman,” he told them, “That is where they are imprisoning people who break or refuse to sign the Sokovia Accords And are deemed too dangerous to be allowed to live free.” Steve noticed the frightened looks that passed between Flo and Pops.

“Don’t worry Captain Rogers,” Pops said after Flo and he had a silent discussion that ended when Flo nodded and then smiled at Darcy. Steve’s whole body tensed but Darcy’s tiny hands on his forearm kept him still. “We won’t say a word About Darcy being your girl.”

The blare of the siren and the flashing of blue and red lights in the parking lot announced the arrival of the sheriff effectively cutting off their conversation. “If you care for Darcy even a little none of you know me.” Steve moved to sit at the counter a few feet away from them. He turned to face the counter and ducked his head. He was aware of movement behind him and knew that Pops was moving toward the door to greet the Sheriff as the door was pulled open.

“Pops,” the harried officer greeted. “So, what the hell happened here?”


	4. Faith in People

Steve sat stone-still, his head bowed and his hands pressed flat into the Formica countertop. His mind, however, was anything but still. Being a highly trained tactician Steve already had the steps plotted out in his head before the Sheriff entered the diner; it was too bad that he had not been able to stay off the radar. He did not even make it passed the two week mark; Natasha would be horrified at his ineptitude. Steve would have to allow himself to be taken, but he would not have to stay in custody. 

“Cassie,” Pops greeted the officer. Steve could hear amusement in Pops’ voice as he moved to stand directly behind Steve’s chair. 

She sounded younger than he expected when she huffed a sigh and groused good naturally, “Dammit, Pops, I told you to call me Sheriff Haney.” 

“And I told you that I changed your dirty nappies,” he shot back as if that negated the other woman’s request.

“Grandpa,” the exasperation and humor in the woman’s voice made Steve want to smile. “Okay,” she sighed, with a chuckle. “Fine, now tell me why I got called out at the witching hour my shift was almost over.”

“We had a bit of a kerfuffle,” Pops explained. “These fellas over here have had a bit more than should have to drink. They weren’t minding their mouths with Darcy, here. She ignored it. Told me and this guy,” Pops laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder making him tense even more, “To let it go.”

“They were being rude,” Flo cut in, “Saying things that a good girl like our Darcy shouldn’t have to hear.” 

“And you are,” the Sheriff asked Steve.

“Steven Grant,” Steve answered immediately in a calm tone. He heard Darcy’s quick intake of breath but thankfully no one else did. Glancing over he found her watching him with wide, speculative eyes. He wondered if her idol was fallen. The media painted him as a man as honest as Abe Lincoln; they seemed to forget that he had lied repeatedly, and quite convincingly, four out of five of his attempts to enlist. People had an unrealistic view of who Captain America is. Steve turned his attention back to the counter top. Sheriff Haney asked Pops to continue with his account.

“Being that Darcy was ignoring the trash they were spewing we were happy to leave it alone,” Pops said and Steve could hear the disgust in his voice. “They were finally leaving and that little shit,” Pops moved the hand from Steve’s shoulder to gesture at the man that started the chain reaction that led them all here. “Grabbed her in front of God and everybody.”

“Grabbed,” the Sheriff asked.

“Reached out and grabbed a handful of my right boob,” Darcy explained. 

“Clayton,” the Sheriff snapped, “What the hell?” 

“She want—,” the titled ‘little shit’ started to say and Steve thrust himself to his feet so quickly that the rest of the room’s occupants all startled. He’d moved with quick grace turning and stepping toward the table housing the drunk young men. The unexpected movement shut the little shit up.

“Now, son,” Pops grumbled at Steve, grasping his shoulder again stopping him from moving closer. 

“Think very carefully before you speak,” Steve ordered the drunk man and though he was trembling with barely controlled anger his voice was firm, “and be respectful.”

“Hey,” Sheriff Haney barked. She moved to place herself between Steve and the man he was staring down like he was a bug that needed stepping on. She gave him a stern look as she commanded. “You need to stand back, buddy!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve said as respectfully as he could muster and took a small, very small, step back. However, he stayed at the ready in case he needed to act. 

“As for you Clayton,” Sheriff Haney snapped, “It would probably be best that you keep your stupid trap shut.” The officer stared hard at Clayton and then turned back to give Steve a narrow eyed look. “What happened you his face?”

“When he attached his hand like a lamprey to my breast,” Darcy spoke up pulling Sheriff Haney’s attention to her. “I lifted my arms and thrust his hand away from me. Unfortunately, I was holding a full, steaming hot pot of coffee at the time. I doused us both with it and shoved him away.”

“That explains the clothes,” Haney said thoughtfully, “It doesn’t explain why Pops called in a brawl.”

“I did not tell Marlene there was a brawl,” Pops grumbled, “I told her that there had been a little dust-up but that it was under control.”

“So,” Haney asked in exasperation. 

“Like I said,” Darcy huffed, “I knocked Thing One back and then Thing Two grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him.”

“I saw this happen and reacted on instinct,” Steve pipped up. He spoke quietly and with as much calm as he could muster. “I am afraid I used excessive force and I nearly dislocated his shoulder.”

“He did not,” Darcy scoffed. “He removed Thing Two’s hand from my arm, twisted his arm behind his back and pressed him onto the table. He didn’t even hurt the guy.” She did not mention that Steve had a ball point pen pressed to the man’s neck and no one else volunteered the information. Perhaps the men at the table had been too inebriated to notice how close to death the man had come.

“You reacted,” Sheriff Haney questioned. 

“I am former military, ma’am.” Steve answered, calm and matter-of-fact. “I perceived a threat to—uh—Darcy,” he hesitated over her name as if he was unsure of it and then continued, “and neutralized it.”

“Hm,” Haney nodded, her eyes assessing. After a few moments she turned to the table and asked, “Which one of you grabbed Darcy’s arm?”

Thing Two reluctantly raised his hand and leaned forward so that Sheriff Haney could get a good look at him.

“Dammit, Jason!” The sheriff whirled toward the table and glared down at the younger man. “You are only sixteen! That is not even old enough to look at alcohol in my sight let alone drink it! And what the hell were you thinking putting your hands on a woman without her permission?”

“She—she—hurt Clayton,” the wide eyed boy stammered. 

Steve felt his gut tighten. He realized that his violent reaction made him nearly fatally harm a minor. His actions just seemed so much worse now because the man was actually a boy. Admittedly, the boy needed to be taught a lesson in the ways to treat a lady, but that did not change the fact that the boy was barely old enough to shave.

“Shut it,” Sheriff Haney barked holding up a hand. “Let’s forget for a moment that I am not going to make your life a living hell until you are actually old enough to imbibe and answer me this! If you had been there when Clayton grabbed Kara like that what would you have done when she kneed the dumb shit in the balls?”

“What,” Jason yelled looking stunned for all of three minutes and then the next thing any of them knew he was climbing over the table swinging his fists. “That’s my sister!”

***

To say that Steve had an eventful twenty-four hours would be an understatement on par with Fury telling him that SHIELD was compromised or Tony Stark is impulsive. He trudged up the metal stairs behind Darcy trying to ignore the fact that the short waitress uniform ended at mid-thigh; which was directly at eye level from his spot three stairs down. Darcy was tired, too. It occurred to him that she had not gotten a chance to rest between her jobs yesterday and the shift that should have ended at three actually stretched until six. 

Sheriff Haney had given Steve a stern lecture about letting his training slip out while Jason whaled on his supposed friend, landing a couple really good punches before she grabbed the kid by the collar and pulled him off Clayton. After restraining the irate kid she questioned him as to where he had obtained the liquor and Jason had been only too happy to rat-out Clayton. Haney then arrested both boys. Clayton had been wide-eyed and bloody-nosed when he was shoved into the back of the Sheriff’s vehicle. Jason had still been angrily giving his friend death glares. Jason had turned in the seat and tried to kick his friend when Haney finally told the kid that Clayton had never, to her knowledge, touched his sister. To which, Jason had been rendered silent once again ending the night in cuffs and questioning his life’s choices. 

Steve hoped the kid learned a lesson. For himself, Steve was pretty damned chagrined that he had come out of the incident without another arrest and escape on his record. On the bright side Natasha might never learn about his total lack of ability in making it more than fourteen days without blowing his cover twice. Thinking about Nat made him snort in self-deprecating amusement; of course she would find out it was Nat after all.

The way Pops, Flo and Darcy seemed to close ranks and protectively direct Sheriff Haney away from him was inspiring. The older man and waitress might have done so to protect Darcy but Steve had a gut feeling that they would have done the same for him no matter who was involved. It had taken them a couple hours after the sheriff left to put the diner to rights and Steve and Pops had gotten to talk quite a bit while they cleaned the kitchen. Pops had served in Veitnam and was still prone to nightmares. Although, he had confided to Steve that it took years to get passed the flashbacks and automatic reactions Pops assure him that he would be able to get passed them in time. Truth be told Steve hoped he was right, but he did not think that his continued participation in battles like in Sokovia and Vienna would allow that to happen.

Stepping up on the landing behind a widely yawning Darcy he had to smile at the way she was unsuccessfully trying to insert her key in the keyhole with her eyes closed. 

“Here,” he said amused, “You look tired.”

Taking her key Steve gently nudged her aside and unlocked the door. Pushing the door open he placed a guiding hand on her back urging her into the small apartment. As soon as she was inside she toed off her sneakers, untied the apron dropping it in her wake and flopped face first into the rumpled sofa bed. Steve smiled when an incoherent mumbling came from the girl but she did not bother to shift around so that all of her was situated comfortably on the bed.

“What,” he asked. Shutting the door, locking it and kicking his own shoes off Steve moved to the foot of the bed and watched bemused as Darcy kicked her feet weakly. She looked a little like a flapping fish when she pushed herself up and over onto her back so that she rested on her back before him. Steve felt a blush creep up his neck when he found himself standing almost between her knees. 

“I said, I have class at ten dammit!” Darcy whined, pushing herself up on her elbows. Pressing her toes into the carpeted floor she tiredly shifted herself backward, but she gave up after a moment and then just flopped gracelessly onto the mattress where she lay. 

“Go ahead and get some sleep,” Steve ordered, glancing at his watch. Steve gently shifted her up onto the pillows he pulled the worn quilt over her tucking her in and watching her curl up on her side. “I’ll wake you in plenty of time to get to class.

“Um-ha,” Darcy agreed with a nod. 

Steve smiled a little and stepped over to the kitchen area and glanced around. The apartment was small, but with the sofa bed open it was minuscule. The only place to sit was the other side of the bed, the floor or the countertop. Looking around he found a thick textbook and grabbed it up off the counter as he slid to the floor and rested his back to the cupboards. He bent his long legs and rested the book on his knees. The book taught political science research methods and from what he could tell by flipping through it the material was advanced.

Letting his eyes roam over the room he realized that there were books everywhere. In fact, the small apartment reminded him of his apartment back in Washington. Her reading was not as eclectic as his, but then she had not just awoken from a seventy year nap. The textbooks intermingled with the fiction and self-help titles were all marked as advanced and covered a wide range of subjects including astrophysics. That book had been tabbed with neon colored post-it notes sticking out of the pages and looked well read.

Darcy made a soft hum and shifted on the pillow to face him and Steve found himself smiling at her. She was out for the count and she would probably be furious if she woke up and found him staring like a slack jawed nitwit. Sighing, Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the cabinets behind him. He was tired. He knew he should have slept when he had the chance earlier, but to be honest after everything that happened he could not seem to let himself relax that much. SHIELD, Ultron and the Accords made it impossible for him. 

Consciously, Steve controlled his breathing and tried to let the tension flow out of his bunched muscles. Fifteen minutes, he decided, he would let himself rest for fifteen minutes and then he would pull his head out of his ass and write a letter to Tony. 

After just ten minutes Steve gave up any hope that he could banish the stress from his body and get even fifteen minutes worth of rest. Sighing, he pulled the paper and paper Darcy gave him earlier from his pocket. Taking a deep breath he smoothed one sheet out over the cover of the textbook and put the pen to the paper. Letting his eyes settle on Darcy’s peaceful, sleeping face he felt the words he had struggled with earlier begin to flow from his pen.

Tony-

I’m glad you’re back at the compound…


	5. Man With A Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to GlynnisIsta8 for taking the time to beta read this form me. You rock!
> 
> Disclaimer: Never will be mine and it makes me cry inside. To ease my pain I use the characters with love.
> 
> REMINDER: Okay, everyone, here it is a little reminder that this story is an Alternate Universe. I have tried to stay right up against MCU canon, as much as possible. However, I am incorporating Agents of SHIELD in a little bit. AoS in this AU is coming to the end of the Hive story arc. All that being said, I have never watched an episode of Agent Carter. So, anything revealed in that show is so much dust in the wind in regard to my story. Sorry! I was just very busy during that shows airing and I totally missed it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Man With A Plan

The ride to the nearest FedEx store was inordinately long. sixty-five miles from Darcy’s university and more than eighty from her apartment. Of course, Steve was pretty spoiled after a couple of years in Washington D.C. and growing-up in New York. It seemed anything and everything a body could want was within a one block radius of his apartments. Rural New Mexico’s desert grasslands housed more creosote bushes and cacti than human beings and habitable buildings. That was one of the reasons Steve chose the area. Few people meant an easier time hiding who he was, at least in theory.

He had to snort at that obviously erroneous theory. The first person he spoke to in New Mexico was Darcy and she knew who he was almost immediately. Flo didn’t know who he was until Pops told her. Pops only knew who he was because he was paying attention and he had idolized what Captain America stood for. All in all, Steve was lucky that no one else from the diner guessed at who he was.

Parking his bike in the lot of a small strip mall Steve looked around. There were more people here and it made the back of his neck crawl a little. Taking a deep breath Steve exhaled the irrational part of him that expected a cataclysm to occur simply because he was present. Steve did not want Ultron to be correct about him being a man that could not exist without a war to fight. Sadly, it seemed like he had been fighting from the moment he was brought into the world on July 4,1918 and had to struggle to breathe. He had to strive for his life, battle bullies and he fought to be allowed to serve his country; only to sacrifice himself and wake up seventy years in the future to find a world that needed him to fight, still.

He wanted a life. Peggy mourned that he had not gotten to live the life he wanted, and it had felt as if she thought he could not have it in this new time and place. Her words had made his discontent with SHIELD and this new time even more pronounced. Yes, he missed his chance to marry Peggy and raise a family but he could live it now with someone new. He is not dead. Unbidden, the memory of waking Darcy this morning filtered into his mind. She had been soft and warm. Darcy was quick and efficient as she readied herself for the day. For Steve, it was nice moving around Darcy’s apartment together after they folded up the bed. There was just enough room for the two of them.

He was dressed as far from _‘Steve Rogers’_ as he could get. His wallet was on a chain and tucked into worn jeans that were frayed at the cuffs and had grease stains from working on the bike. His black leather biker vest was worn over a black tee shirt emblazoned with a memorial to the victims of the nine-eleven World Trade Center attack. His hair was unkempt and was coming in darker than his usual golden blond. His face was covered in dark whiskers that, according to Darcy softened his jawline. 

Steve smiled at the memory of a blurry-eyed Darcy all warm and rumpled from sleep staggering to stand beside him as he stared into the mirror contemplating the changes to his appearance. He had been frowning at his reflection and thinking that no matter what he did he still looked like himself. 

“What did you do to warrant a look like that,” she asked as she looked from him to his reflection. 

“I still look like me,” he groused.

Darcy turned him away from the mirror with a firm grip on his arm and then she studied him critically from head to toe before she shook her head. “To you maybe,” she murmured softly, “but the scruff softens that chiseled jaw and your eyes are different.”

“How,” he asked surprised and confused. “What do you mean?”

“People tend to identify you as Captain America and to be honest they only see what they want to see.” She explained, “Like when people look at an actor and expect him to be exactly like the character they obsess over. Captain America is your character and I am pretty sure the only people that have seen that look in your eyes are the ones that know the difference between the propaganda and the man.”

“So, they’ll all be looking for a guy with a winning smile and not a ragged wreck of a man,” Steve said after contemplating her words for a moment.

“You aren’t a wreck,” Darcy told him with a soft look in her eyes. She had reached up and tousled his hair with a cheeky grin, “maybe a little scruffy, but definitely not a wreck.”

Shaking his head and still feeling a Darcy-inspired warmth inside him Steve dismounted his bike and headed for one of the stores that sold cheap pre-paid phones and plans. It did not take long to find two cheap phones, one to send to Tony and another for himself. He declined a service plan and instead used his Stark phone to call the company and set up service with automatic payments after he left the store. The payments would come out of the account Tony had set up for him with Stark Industries and as soon as the phones were set up Steve dismantled the Stark phone and put it into his saddle bag. It wasn’t that he distrusted Tony and thought he would track him down using the phone, but he didn’t want to put the other man in an even more tenuous situation.

It took longer in the FedEx store than he expected but soon Steve was winding his way back. Darcy’s first class had started at ten and would last about an hour and a half. So, her second and final class for the day was nearly over when Steve parked his bike in the same spot he had dropped her off at earlier. 

A glance at his watch showed that he had another twenty minutes to wait. Seeing the vendor at a coffee cart in the middle of the quad Steve decided to get Darcy a cup. She was a little put out when they arrived late and she could not indulge herself in a much needed boost of caffeinated joy. She had looked really tired when she slung her backpack on her shoulder and trudged to her morning class. 

Arriving at the cart Steve got into the long line behind a bunch of college students all engaged on their cellular devices. It made him frown every time he saw the way technology had usurped interpersonal relations. The students were distracted and therefore the line moved sluggishly. Steve was almost to the head of the line when he felt familiar small hands grasp his forearm. He looked down to see Darcy laying her head tiredly on his upper arm.

“Hey,” he murmured with a small smile. Reaching up with his other hand Steve tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “You made it through your classes.”

“Barely,” she sighed, “I swear if I wasn’t two semesters away from my Master’s, I would’ve blown off Professor Daniels’ class. He could put the Energizer Bunny into a coma.”

“Well,” Steve murmured, suppressing a laugh as they moved up to the counter. “Let’s get you, your caffeine fix to counter his tranquilizing effects. You need to be awake for the ride back but then you can rest.”

“Caramel Latte with a double shot of espresso, please.” Darcy ordered immediately. Steve asked for a cappuccino and then paid. The barista was quick and soon they were at the little counter adding sugar to his cup. They sipped their drinks and ambled back toward the bike.

“Do you want to find a bench?” Steve asked.

“I wish,” Darcy sighed, “I have work at the tattoo parlor in forty minutes and then another shift at the diner tonight.”

Steve frowned. He was exhausted and his body was coursing with Dr. Erskine's serum; Darcy was going on less than three hours of sleep since he met her. Living as he had from the moment he awoke Steve was out of touch with the way regular people lived their lives. Seeing the excess that surrounded most people in his circle gave the illusion that the lean years of the Depression were well and truly gone. But the way Darcy lived told Steve the Depression was not as far gone as he had been lead to believe.

“You need sleep,” Steve asserted firmly. Darcy eyed him with a raised brow and pursed lips.

“I do,” she agreed, “I also need to pay my bills. I usually get more sleep between shifts and the tattoo shop. Last night was an anomaly. I appreciate that you are here because if you weren’t then I would’ve had to catch an Uber.”

“Uber?” Steve asked.

“It's a ride App kind of like a taxi,” she explained digging her phone from her pocket. She showed him how the App worked and then stuffed her phone back into her pocket. She drank her coffee like a desperate woman. Realizing she was in a hurry Steve swallowed his coffee in two large gulps and then took their empty cups to the nearest garbage bin. 

“I saw what you did there,” he informed her when he mounted his bike and waited for Darcy to climb on behind him. “I still think you need sleep.”

“I do. I do!” She nodded as she snuggled up against his back. “But I’m sure you have heard that there is no rest for the wicked. So, come on, Soldier! I need to get to work.” Steve threw her an unimpressed look over his shoulder as he kicked his bike to life. Darcy patted his stomach and laughed a little as she informed him, “I have all of tomorrow free, no work or school for thirty glorious hours.” 

Steve was pensive on the ride back. He was impressed with Darcy’s ingenuity and resourcefulness in providing for her needs, but he didn’t like that she had to push herself so much. It was strange feeling so strongly for someone that wasn’t Bucky, Peggy or a teammate. By the time he was pulling into the parking lot of the tattoo shop Steve had the beginnings of an idea germinating in his mind. Helping Darcy get settled at the counter Steve left her with an assurance that he would return for her when the shift was over to take her back to the apartment.

Parking his bike behind the diner Steve went inside. He had Darcy’s key to her apartment but Steve had a few things to discuss with Pops and Flo before Darcy’s shift. He expected to have to leave a message for Pops, but the man was sitting at the counter sorting receipts. 

“Pops,” Steve called as he stepped inside. 

“Steve,” the older man greeted with a smile. “You come for some lunch?”

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “I was hoping to talk to you about some things.”

“Things,” Pops asked tilting his head so he could peer up at Steve over his glasses.

“It's about Darcy,” he admitted feeling slightly uncomfortable. 

“Is she in trouble,” Pops asked pulling the receipts up into his hands and tapping them against the counter to stack them in a neat pile.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “She’s at work right now. She just did not get much sleep last night And I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Flo said you weren’t that kind of friend,” Pops murmured with a smirk making his meaning clear. “Did you run the girl ragged?”

Steve blushed bright red and he protested, “We aren’t…I mean to say…well…uh…Forget it,” he muttered when Pops began to laugh. “You are making fun.”

“A bit,” Pops acknowledged, “When you get to be my age you take your fun where you can get it.”

“Technically,” Steve told the older man with a sigh, “I’m at lease twenty-five years your senior, Pops.”

“True,” Pops barked a laugh, “But most of your life experience is as a frozen entrée.” 

“What did you say your last name was?” Steve asked shaking his head ruefully. “That’s something Tony Stark would say.”

“Hmm,” Pops murmured with a smile. “That how you butter me up for a favor?”

Steve could not keep the smile from his face. He liked Pops. The man looked like a rough and tough kind of guy but he had a self-assurance and wit that reminded Steve of Tony. The last few weeks had been weighing on Steve and he actually missed the tentative comradely relationship he shared with Tony. He missed being part of a team; they were across the ocean taking refuge in Africa. Technically, he was still part of the Avengers but he was separated from them as thoroughly as he was separated from Tony. 

He knew he could have stayed at T’Challa’s compound but Steve could not shake the thought that there was something behind the Accords that was not only simple human fear. It was a conversation with Bucky, the night before his friend had entered his self-imposed cryogenic-sleep, that sent Steve back to America. Bucky had revealed that it had been Dr. Arnim Zola that found him in the snow the day he fell. Hearing that was like a punch to the gut because Zola had been been captured on the train. Which meant that Zola might have confessed to Colonel Phillips that he had experimented on Bucky using a bastardized form of the Super Serum. Steve wanted to believe HYDRA was to blame for Bucky’s treatment and not the US government that had originally allowed Zola to continue to experiment on his friend.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Pops’ tone brooked no arguments. Steve was abruptly brought out of his thoughts and he felt familiar tightness in his chest. He knew it was not asthma that shortened his breaths, which meant he was having another panic attack. He felt pathetic and he could almost bet that Dr. Erskine was rolling over in his grave at having chosen such a weak man for his test subject. Steve closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath holding it for a slow count of ten, willing his heart rate to slow and his mind to calm. He let Pops take his arm and lead him out the front door.

The walked for a while silently and Steve was glad that Pops was not asking a thousand unanswerable questions. He thought they were wandering aimlessly until the reached the bank in the center of the small town. Pops left Steve's side and deposited a brown paper bag into the night deposit box. Pops noticed Steve’s puzzled gaze and smiled explaining, “I did not get the deposit finished after last night’s little snarl.”

“I’m very sorry about that,” Steve told the man feeling guilty at having interrupted the man’s life.

“Not your doing, son.” Pops assured him, “I would have called Cassie in even if you had not gotten involved. Darcy is a good girl and she works hard; little snots like that need a good hiding, but since their parents can’t or won’t...” The man shrugged leaving the rest of the sentence unfinished.

“She does work hard,” Steve agreed. “That is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I see,” Pops murmured glancing around. They were across the street from the park; Steve watched as a few children played and mothers with strollers huddled in a group laughing and talking while corralling their children.

“Did you want to keep walking or,” Steve gestured to the park and an empty picnic table.

“You implying that I’m old and might need to sit down?” Pops asked with a mock-affronted look.

“Well,” Steve smiled and shrugged. “Yes.” His surprisingly blunt statement startled a laugh out of Pops and earned Steve a light slap to the back of his head. “Hey, respect your elders!” Pops laughed and led Steve to an empty table at the opposite end of the park.

Once they settle at the table, Steve sighed heavily and watched the children playing. Two children caught his eye and he could see the unmistakable light of friendship in their eyes. They were kicking sand up and trying to run through it. They were laughing and running amuck and it made Steve’s heart twinge. One was dark haired the other had a mop of blond curls. 

“Those two are gonna give their parents a run for their money,” Pops laughed softly as the dark haired little boy stopped the curly haired little girl from trying to eat a fistful of sand. “They’ll most likely lead Cassie on a merry chase or two and then Kalie will end up bullying Hunter down the aisle. The little hellions!”

“It’ll be great,” Steve murmured after allowing himself time to imagine the kinds of trouble the two would undoubtedly get into. “They’ll have each other.” 

Flexing his fingers Steve dropped his eyes to the rough wood beneath them; his mind was eighty-eight years in the past remembering the day he first met Bucky. They had been thick as thieves, brothers in all but blood. Steve had been trouble with a capital T and he had dragged Bucky into one scrape after another. No matter what harebrained thing Steve decided to do Bucky was there to pull his panting, wheezy little ass out of it. He’d hoped after the serum that he would be given the chance to protect Bucky for once, but he failed Bucky. Steve wasn’t there when Bucky needed him. 

“I had a friend like that,” Steve confided after a long moment. “Bucky was like the brother I never had.”

“Yeah,” Pops nodded and then added tentatively, “James Buchanan Barnes is mentioned prominently in the history books, too. He’s been in the news a far bit recently as well.”

“The—They hurt him,” Steve gasped, his throat clogged with emotion. “I—It was our government.”

“What?” Pops asked, shocked. “I thought it was HYDRA. I’m guessing it would be what gets reported if the talking heads in Washington wanted to keep their hands from looking too dirty.”

“It was true to a point.” Steve nodded, clenching his fists. “But it was SSR, too. Bucky remembers bits and pieces of his rescue. The doctor that experimented on him under Red Skull was there, and I know for a fact he had already been captured by us. Colonel Phillips had to have known. If he knew about Bucky that means that he lied to me, but—”

“But you wonder who else knew your friend was being treated like a lab rat,” Pops muttered with a curse.

“My gi—Peggy—Agent Carter,” Steve struggled to put his fears into words. “I have to wonder if she knew. I don’t want to think about her keeping it from me but—well, she had a code and she was loyal to the SSR. I thought—but—really she was one of the original founders of SHIELD along side Colonel Phillips and Howard Stark. How could she not have known?” 

“Well,” Pops drawled after a long moment in which Steve covered his face and rubbed his fingers against the spot between his brows that manifested his tension in the form of a crease. “I don’t know much more than what can be found in the history books, but as progressive as it was to have Agent Carter in a position of such power, I can’t imagine that it was total.”

“You think Colonel Phillips didn’t tell Peggy?” Steve asked after a long moment.

“I don’t know,” Pops admitted. “But, if I was planning to let some Nazi-scum experiment on the best friend of a National Icon, I would be keeping it close to my chest.” God! Steve wanted to believe that Peggy had been in the dark about what was done to Bucky.

Pulling himself out of thoughts of the wreckage of his past Steve took a deep breath, “I wanted to speak with you about Darcy not bury you under all that baggage.”

“Yeah,” Pops agreed, “But you needed to get it out. Have you told anyone else your suspicions?”

“No,” Steve admitted. “I don’t want people thinking badly of Peggy.”

“It ain't all about Agent Carter though,” Pops admonished, “You need to let your friends in, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve sighed.

“Good,” Pops nodded with finality, “Now, tell me what you want to do about our poor, overworked Darcy.”


	6. Inhuman Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderfully Beta'd by Glynnista8. However, I did a major re-write and then just put it through an app before posting. Any errors are my own and not, the lovely Glynnista8's.
> 
> Remember this is AU and I am taking liberties here. Thanks for reading!

Darcy was laughing with a dark haired, young woman when he walked into the tattoo shop that afternoon. Her laughter was goofy. The sort of punch-drunkenness that Steve had seen during the war. The Howling Commandos could go days on a mission without adequate sleep. Dum-Dum was particularly susceptible to the more debilitating effects of sleep deprivation. The man could drink anyone except Steve under the table but he needed at least six hours of sleep a night. Steve pulled more than one of Dum Dum's watches. It was an acceptable price to pay. Especially, if it kept Dum-Dum from doing anything over-the-top stupid.

“Steve!” Darcy squealed, and pouncing on him and dragging him across the room. “Steve, this is Daisy! Daisy, this is Steve-o.” Steve tried to hide his amusement but Darcy was making it hard. “Daisy and Darcy…Darcy and Daisy! Say that five times fast, Steve-o.”

Lifting the hand Darcy wasn’t attached to Steve greeted, “Nice to meet you, Daisy.” Darcy twirled away from Steve and raced across the room to the counter. The frenetic way she moved made Steve frown. This was not simple tipsy-sleep deprivation. 

“Likewise,” Daisy murmured with a frown. Her eyes studying him. He was uncomfortable with her scrutiny. Darcy’s wild movements drew the other girl’s gaze from Steve.

“Darcy,” Daisy’s words tinged with a sharpness that Steve didn’t like. He was willing to overlook it when Daisy laughed and moved to help Darcy put her jacket on; the sleeves tangled. Daisy’s patience was wearing thin after spending so much time with hyper-Darcy. “I was hoping I could spend a little more time with you.” Or not.

“Do you like waffles,” Darcy asked, exuberant. “Pops makes the best waffles and I have to work…Work, work!”

“Actually, Doll,” Steve interrupted, “You are going back to the apartment. I spoke with Pops earlier and explained your need for rest.”

“Steve,” Darcy screeched, stumbling back to Steve’s side to poke him in the chest. Smiling, Steve caught her hand and pressed the palm over his heart. “I have bills, Steve! Bills!” 

“I know, Darcy.” 

“If you know then you…know that…you know that I know that I…” Darcy frowned. Looking up at him as if even she was aware that she was making no sense. 

“I Know you have bills, Darce, that’s why I spent the afternoon being trained by Megan.” Steve informed her with patience. “I am going to take your shift. Once you have caught up on your sleep Pops said he would like to teach me to do the grill. Jose is getting ready to graduate and he put in his notice.”

“But I can’t sleep now,” she cried near tears. She looked so comical. The moue of upset on her pretty features gave Steve a sudden rush of tenderness in his chest. He couldn’t help himself, he pulled her into his chest and hugged her tight. “Jazz gave me a boost and my skin is all itchy. I am gonna be all hyper for hours.”

“What!” Steve demanded, pushing her away to study her eyes. Her pupils are dilated like she is drugged and she was acting too chaotic to be only sleep deprived. Her face and arms are flushed, too. Letting her go. Steve pushed through the curtain that separated the tattoo stalls from the lobby. The first stall held Jinx inking an expansive butterfly across the back of a woman laying on her stomach. 

“Hey,” Jinx yelped. She only managed to lift the tattoo gun before it pressed too deep. Her startled response might have caused the ink to settle too deep. She hated to see blowout around her tattoo edges. 

Steve didn’t bother to answer as he moved on in search of Jazz. He passed one stall that was empty. Steve followed the sounds of a man’s voice and the whir of another tattoo gun to the last stall on the left. The guy inking words on a man’s bicep looked out of place to Steve. Unlike Jinx, Jazz had no visible tattooing on his arms or neck. His clothes seemed conservative for someone in this line of work. He looked like a nice guy, but his appearance did little to cool Steve’s ire.

“What did you give to Darcy?” Steve growled, moving to loom over the man. Jazz looked up from his work and his eyes widened comically at the imposing figure before him. 

Jazz wasn’t as quick as Jinx and the dot he was placing above an ‘I’ went too deep. “Fuck, man, what the hell?” Steve ignored the tattoo artist’s question and the alarmed squawk from his client. 

“What. Did. You. Give. Darcy!” Steve made each word a demand as he clenched his fists at his sides. trying to keep himself from wrapping them around the man’s neck. The man in the chair looked nervous. His eyes skipping between Steve and Jazz but he didn’t speak or try to move.

“What did I—Oh—you think—I gave her an energy drink man!” Jazz placed the coil back on its stand and reached into the drawer beneath it. He showed the label to Steve offering the tiny bottle to him. “I use them when I need a boost. It’ll wear off in a few hours.”

Steve growled, snatching the bottle and reading the ingredients. “I don’t know what half of this is.”

“Vitamins and caffeine, man.” Jazz answered immediately, “It's like a legal upper. You can buy ‘em anywhere.”

Steve had to close his eyes an breathe deep before handing the bottle back to Jazz. “Darcy is not acting like someone on vitamins.” Steve's voice was terse as he spoke. “She has dilated eyes and she says she’s itchy.”

“Itchy,” Jazz frowned. “I guess she’s having a reaction to the niacin. People sensitive to niacin can have a reaction that makes their skin flushed and itchy. The website says it will only last a few minutes.”

“Never again,” Steve stared hard into Jazz’ eyes. Jazz seemed as if he was telling Steve the truth but it did nothing to make him feel better. 

“Never,” Jazz promised, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man, I was trying to help her get through her shift at the diner. She’s real tired.”

“Which is why I fixed things so she could go home and sleep,” Steve told the man. His voice flat. 

He left the man muttering apologies and went back to Darcy. She was talking with animated hand gestures. They were planning a slumber party. Darcy spinning on her stool while Daisy watched her. “And we can get waffles from the diner,” she enthused. Daisy looked bemused. But she was nodding agreement as Darcy listed the nights scheduled activities. “We can paint our nails. And talk about Steve-o’s killer abs and those damned collar bones that are way too tempting for any girl’s sanity.” Steve blushed.

“At least until you crash,” Jazz pipped up from behind Steve. “You’re going to drop where you stand when it wears off.” Darcy pouted. “Sorry again, Steve. Looking at her like this I understand why you thought I got her high.”

‘Come on,” Steve murmured, gentle. He took her hand and helped her from her chair. “Time to get you home, Doll.”

“Doll,” Darcy sighed, “I like that.”

“I’m glad,” Steve smiled. Daisy held the door for them and followed them out. Darcy stumbled and Steve frowned. “Are you going to be able to handle riding on the bike?”

“Bah,” she waved his concern away and mounted the bike behind Steve. “I’m fine!” 

Steve might have been more convinced if she had not dissolved into a fit of giggles at that moment. “I don’t know, Darce.”

“Pshaw,” she sighed hugging herself to his back. “Won’t let go of these latissimus dorsi or your spectacular rectus abdominis. I—promise!” 

Daisy fiddled with her keys for a moment before saying, “She can ride with me. She gestured to a van with dark blue oxidized paint. “That’s mine.”

Steve eyed the van for only a moment. Nodding he helped Darcy off the bike and to the passenger side of the van. All the while listening to her complain that Steve and Daisy were being spoilsports. Darcy sprawled in the front passenger seat and she didn’t look as if she had plans to fasten her seatbelt. Steve understood the need for the restraints on a normal drive. But with the loose limbed Darcy slumping boneless in the seat Steve was glad for the invention. 

“I could’ve done it,” Darcy groused. “I like riding with you better. This isn’t fun.”

“I know, Doll.” Putting her backpack into the footwell at Darcy’s feet he patted her ankle comforting her. “It may not be fun but it is safer for you at the moment.” 

“Spoilsport,” she complained again. 

Steve smiled as he adjusted the belt to tighten it across her hips. Darcy gripped the edge of his leather vest and tried to hold him in place when he would have left her. She was strong but she was easily distracted by Daisy getting into the driver’s seat. Steve extricated Darcy’s fingers from the black leather. Smiling he raised her hand pressing his lips to the top in a soft kiss. 

“I like you riding with me, too.” His voice was low only Darcy could hear the teasing words. Steve placed her hand in her lap and stepped back closing the door.

Steve followed the van back toward town feeling bereft. He had not been kidding Darcy when he said he liked her riding with him. The truth was that he particularly enjoyed having her pressed to his back as they rode. She was slight with soft breasts that felt tantalizing. The press of her felt decadent on the plains of his back. 

Darcy wasn’t the first woman to ride with him but she was the first to feel, so achingly, right. Peggy had ridden with him once or twice during their time in England. Nat rode behind him once. It was as they made their way into Sokovia for that first, ultimately, disastrous mission. that lead to the creation of Ultron. It had felt nice with Peggy in a forbidden sort of way that had his pulse skittering the whole time. Peggy was the first woman to catch his heart. She wasn't meant for him, though, and somewhere deep down Steve recognized that he had always known it. Nat is a friend. Despite the kiss and the way she had offered to be who he wanted her to be she would never be anything other than that. Steve felt sorry for Natasha because she seemed to think she had to change herself to be what others wanted. 

Watching the van slow and turn into the diner’s parking lot Steve wondered about the girl driving. There was something about her that was not quite right; it was setting his nerves on edge. Daisy seemed nice enough but there was an edge to her that Steve did not like. He was glad she was willing to help him get Darcy home but he felt uncomfortable with the separation. Daisy parked at the side of the diner and Steve parked around back by the stairs. He met the two girls as Darcy skipped to Daisy’s side. Steve took Darcy’s pack and dug the key to her apartment from his pant’s pocket. 

“Come on,” he commanded with a tilt of his head toward the stairs. “I need to get ready for my shift. I can’t dress like a biker to serve milkshakes and waffles.” At the stairs Steve motioned Darcy up first and then followed leaving Daisy to trail behind them.

“What are you gonna where, Steve?” Darcy asked, confused. She stumbled on her way up when she turned to glare back at him. Steve reached out and caught Darcy’s hips steadying her. “My uniform won’t fit you and if it does I’ll hate you forever.” 

“Your uniform is a dress, Darce.” Those pouted words startled a laugh out of him. “I’m not a dame, Doll. I’m wearing a pair of black slacks and a white tee shirt.”

“Good,” she nodded, turning back to the task of climbing stairs. “Because that goldenrod yellow and red are not your colors.”

Steve shook his head at her serious reply. That energy drink combined with severe exhaustion was on par with truth serum. Steve found himself pressing tight against Darcy on the cramped landing to fit the key in the lock and turn it. The apartment was much smaller with three people in it. More than it had been with Steve and Darcy, but he would be heading downstairs for his shift in a couple hours. Placing Darcy’s pack beside the door Steve dropped into the couch with a tired sigh. 

“Did you get any sleep,” Darcy demanded, staring down at him with her hands on her hips.

Steve shook his head. “I am going to close my eyes for an hour or so before my shift.” 

“Okay,” Darcy nodded, smiling. “Good!”

“Why don’t you and Daisy figure out what you want from the diner,” Steve dropped his head to the back of the couch. “I’ll order it when I get downstairs and bring it up when it’s ready.”

“Good idea!” 

“I saw a video store down the street by the supermarket,” Daisy gestured toward the television and DVD player. “Darcy and I could go get a couple movies and junk food for our slumber party.”

Steve eyed the dark haired woman thoughtful. She was trying to sound over excited, but her body was stiff and her eyes had that edge he noticed earlier. After studying her Steve shook his head, “No, Darcy is in no fit state to be running errands.”

“Steve—“

Lifting a hand to quiet Darcy’s protests Steve took hold of her wrist and pulled her to sit beside him. “You know I am right, Doll.”

“Ugh!” Darcy wrapped her arms around his arm. She pressed her head into his shoulder and thumping it against the bulging muscle there.

“Hey,” Steve cupped the side of her head and stopped her movements. “You’ll give yourself a concussion.”

“A movie would be nice, Steve. This is the first time in a while that I have a chance to hang out with another girl my own age.” Meeting her pleading eyes Steve felt sad. Darcy wanted to spend time with Daisy. 

“I am not nixing the idea,” Steve sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You need to limit your public appearances while intoxicated.”

Turning to Daisy he smiled. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, fished out two twenties and offered them to Daisy. “I’ll pay for the snacks and movies if you’ll go get them, but Darcy is a menace right now.”

He watched Daisy consider his offer for a few moments. She finally nodded, took the money and headed for the door with a cheerful wave to Darcy. Steve concentrated. He listened until he heard Daisy’s feet leave the last stair and crunch along the gravel in the parking lot. He turned to Darcy.

“So,” he murmured, trying to sound nonchalant. “How long have you known Daisy?”

“I met her a few weeks ago when Lincoln brought her around to meet me.” Darcy’s legs jogged as she spoke with energy drink induced energy.

“Lincoln,” Steve questioned, “Is he someone you trust?”

“I guess,” she nodded. “He was one of the Inhuman counselors. I spoke with him at length when I was trying to decide if I should go through the Mist.”

“The Mist,” he frowned.

“It’s sort of slang, I guess, for TerriGenesis.” She explained. “There are Terrigen Crystals. They are used when an Inhuman decides to accept the transformation. When the crystal breaks it creates a mist. The mist is absorbed through the skin. The mist bonds with the inactive gene within the Inhuman to activate and manifest the change.”

“Hmm,” Steve nodded, thoughtful. His mind whirled. The idea that there were people born, not mutant, but with latent powers was intriguing. Unlike, him Darcy could become empowered without scientific enhancement. He wondered what she could be if she went through the mist without science forcing the change to occur. After a few minutes thinking about Darcy and her genetics Steve voiced his question. “Why didn’t you go through the—Uh, Mist?” It was something he wanted to ask since she mentioned her Inhuman heritage.

“Jiaying,” Darcy sighed. “She was the leader of Afterlife. That was a sanctuary city in China before SHIELD fell. Anyway, the Terrigen Crystals are not infinite. Since the number of crystals is limited the council votes on who can enter the Mist."

"How do they decide who receives a crystal," Steve asked frowning.

"Yat-Sen is one of the teachers at Afterlife," Darcy explained. "His gift is seeing the potential within. He meets with everyone of Inhuman descent and looks into them. Once he discovers your gift he reports to Jiaying and the Council." 

"That doesn't answer why you never went through Terrigenesis."

"If you're destined to be too dangerous," Darcy sighed. "Or your powers are weak or useless the Council would vote not to allow you to go through the Mist.”

“Why did they vote against you going through the Mist?” Steve tensed. He could not imagine Darcy ever being a danger. 

“I don’t really know,” Darcy shrugged. “Jiaying and Yat-Sen disagreed. She did not think I would be able to handle my powers. Yat-Sen spent hours with me and he was sure that he would be able to help me focus my mind and stay in control.”

“What sort of powers,” he asked.

“Don’t know for sure,” Darcy shook her head. “Jiaying called them Psionic. Yat-Sen said he thought they would be more Psi-Elemental. Even after studying and counseling for weeks I only learned the bare minimum. Jiaying felt it would be inappropriate for me to learn too much about something that would never be part of me. Yat-Sen explained that Psionic meant that my power was mental. He taught me even less about Psi-Elementalism.” Steve frowned. Darcy didn't notice his unease as she continued. "I guess I will be able to manipulate elements with my mind."

“I guess it makes sense to have control.” Steve rolled his shoulders feeling uncomfortable. “I am not sure I agree with keeping people from going through the Mist. Especially, not because their powers are weaker or less useful than someone else's.” Denying a person their birth right, something they were born with rankled. “Has Daisy gone through the Mist?”

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded, laughing as she told Steve about the first time she met Daisy and Lincoln. “She can feel vibrations and amplify them. So, Daisy vibrated a can of soda until it went off like a geyser.”

“And that's considered Mist worthy?” Steve admitted to himself that he was out of his depths. When it came to understanding all this Inhuman stuff he was clueless. “I can shake a cola and make it do that.”

“Well, soda cans are pretty small potatoes. Daisy can create localized earthquakes, too.”

“I’m not sure how that isn’t considered too dangerous,” Steve muttered. “Or useless, really.” 

Darcy turned to look at Steve with a puzzled look on her pretty features. “Why so interested in Daisy?”

“I—Feel like there is something off about her.” Steve told her after a few moments contemplation. “I want you to be careful tonight.” Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What is your number? I got a phone today so you can call me if you need me. I’ll text you so you have mine.” Darcy rattled off her number and Steve sent off a text. “There now you can reach me in an emergency.”

“Daisy is a friend,” Darcy murmured after a long moment. Steve could see that she was not convinced that he was tilting at windmills. 

“I’m not saying she is up to anything nefarious,” Steve cajoled, “I am asking you to be careful around her. I would not want anything to happen to you.”

“Fine,” she sighed. 

“Good,” Steve wrapped his arm around Darcy’s shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “I haven’t slept in a few days. I need to try and sleep for a few minutes at least.”

“It's so strange,” Darcy confided. “My mind is racing like I will jump out of my skin at any moment but deep down I still feel like I could sleep until next week.”

“That energy drink was a bad idea.” 

“I know that now,” she huffed. “Steve?”

“Yeah,” he asked.

“Thanks for taking care of me. I know I’m a handful.”

“That you are, Doll, but I like it.” Steve chuckled giving Darcy another squeeze. Leaning his head back Steve closed his eyes and let himself drift. He was asleep in minutes. 

*** 

By the time he was two hours into his shift Steve had a new appreciation for Flo, Megan and Darcy. There was no way to get around the fact that people are plain rude. Their kids self-centered and disobedient. Bratty seemed too tame a word. 

Flo kept a smile on her face even when someone’s kid decided to squirt catsup at her. Steve felt shame that he was glad the kid had chosen Flo instead of him. Because Steve would have tried to give the ten year old a good tanning! His oblivious parents never looked up from their smart phones. Not even to whine about the streaks of tomato product across the table. They didn't discipline their darling and Steve refrained from commenting. All around, everyone went about ignoring the Loki-in-training. Flo confided to Steve that Darcy had nicknamed the terror, Devon the Demon. Evidently, the family came in every Friday evening.

It had taken Steve an hour to figure out how to stack the plates up his arms the way he had seen Flo and Darcy do. His muscles, although great for wielding his shield, are too bulky to give the dishes a place to rest. Steve dropped two egg platters when his tricep flexed shifting the arm load onto the floor. Pops laughed himself stupid. Slapping Steve on the back, Pops made the rest of the dishes shift and wobble. The ensuing acrobatic, juggling of plates was entertaining for Flo. She stood bent over the prep table holding her stomach and gasping for breath. Steve wasn’t impressed, but he had saved the rest of the order from certain destruction. After that he used one of the baking sheets to carry his orders.

Three hours in and Steve was pouring coffee and water like a pro. He was charming the tittering female masses and serving plates as if he had been doing it all his life. Steve thanked God he had not been doing it for the last ninety-eight years. He hated it. Being a man used to giving orders and not ‘taking’ them made waiting tables a certain kind of hell. In fact, waiting tables was something he would not inflict on his worst enemy. Well, okay, Steve would take a certain amount of glee in making Zola wait on Devon the Demon. 

A charter bus pulled into the parking lot and piled into Flo’s section. The elderly folks were far more polite than the rest of the customers they had served so far. Steve helped Flo by getting her tables drink orders and fetching and carrying for her. Some of these people were Steve’s actual age. Seeing the difficulties they faced. Reminded Steve that he was fortunate to be Dr. Erskine's chosen. Even if being less sickly and weak didn't help him fit into the world any better. Not with people from the same era nor people from this one. He had managed to feel like he fit in with the Avengers, but it wasn’t Steve Rogers who fit in there. It was Captain America. Although, Steve had to admit that Darcy, Pops and Flo made him feel as if he fit as both Steve and the Captain. Steve wanted to fit here he really did. 

“You who,” a bird-like voice called and a frail hand waved a glass in the air getting Steve’s attention. He felt a blush working its way up his neck at the inappropriate gleam in the blue-haired, old woman’s eyes. Flo was snickering behind him. Steve could see Pops watching the scene playing out. The older man, amused by Steve and the feisty septuagenarian.

Miss Maribel Harweather was a spry seventy-eight. Her tinted hair was up in a sleek style. Her bright leopard print dress and flaming red fingernails which was the same shade as her lip stick. Since arriving at the diner, setting her bespectacled eyes on Steve the woman flirted. Maribel was shameless, patted his backside twice and laughed gaily to her friend. “Ass like that deserves a pat.” She sipped her water daintily. “Besides I could be dead tomorrow, Agnes.”

“Miss Harweather,” Steve smile tight approached her table. “More water, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” she nodded with a bright smile and watched as he took her glass and filled it quick and efficient. 

“Can I get you anything else, Miss Harweather?” Steve asked solicitous. Placing the glass back on the table. He choked at her coquettish answer.

“Nothing my cardiologist would allow I’m afraid.” Her rheumy eyes sparkled and she reached out a hand to tap a scarlet-tipped nail to his stomach. “But…” She emphasized each word with a tapping stroke of her nail across his abs. “...what…he…doesn’t…know…won’t…kill me.” 

“Maribel!” Agnes batted Maribel’s hand away from Steve and took her to task for her inappropriate behavior. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth Steve beat a hasty retreat, but not before he heard Maribel’s response. “Live a little, Agnes. You could bounce quarters off that boys abs!” 

Pops laugh was hearty when Steve ducked into the kitchen. “Did you get her number?” Steve gave Pops a dirty look. 

“I thought teenaged girls were bad,” Steve shook his head and laughed at the oddity that was his life. “As far as she knows I’m young enough to be her great-grandson.” Pops didn’t say anything, patted Steve on the shoulder and turned back to the grill. “Once the bus pulls out I’ve packaged up some pie for Darcy and her friend. You can take a few minutes to deliver it for me.”

“Sure,” Steve muttered, peering around the door jamb. “It looks like time to clear the dishes.”

“Go get ‘em, Soldier!” Pops cackled.

“Think I hate you,” Steve snapped. Squaring his shoulders, lifting the bus bucket and heading for the emptying tables. His demeanor like a man headed into battle. 

“Nah,” Pops called after Steve, “You love me!”

Steve held the door as Maribel and Agnes exited. Agnes patting his arm with a comforting hand, “You are a good boy to let this floozy harass you all night.”

“Like you weren’t thinking the same things, Agnes.” Maribel laughed, rolling her eyes. “You're too repressed to let your floozy out to play.” Turning to Steve she reached around and gave his backside another firm squeeze. Steve gave an unmanly squeak. “Thanks for giving an old girl a thrill. Your girl is a lucky one.”

“That she is,” Flo cut in, “Speaking of which. Here is the pie Pops packaged for you to take up.”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed, relieved to have an excuse to move away from the door. Taking the styrofoam box from Flo Steve edged passed the women. Turning back he smiled. “It was—uh—nice meeting you ladies.”

“Sure it was,” Agnes shook her head ruefully.

“Of course it was,” Maribel assured.

Shaking his head Steve raised a hand in farewell and made his way around the building. The crunch of gravel, sound of the charter bus’ engine and chattering old women filled his ears. He might have missed the sound of a familiar voice, but for his enhanced hearing. Steve froze. The pie in his hands falling to the ground as he took in the two figures leaving a black SUV. One, the man whose voice Steve recognized, stopped to peer into Daisy’s van. Agent Phil Coulson…He looked good for a dead man! The other, an Asian woman that moved like Nat. She was cautious as she mounted the stairs leading up to Darcy’s apartment. She only mounted the stairs after Coulson motioned her forward and shook his head, “She’s not in the van.” 

Steve’s mind was racing. He wished that Coulson being alive surprised him but after Fury’s subterfuge it was all too mundane. Why was he here? Were they here looking for Daisy? Or did they know he was living with Darcy? Moving with stealth up behind Phil Steve growled, “Death suits you.”

“What—Captain Rogers?” Coulson’s surprised look would have been funny if Steve wasn’t so angry. Grasping the man’s shirt front Steve pushed him against the side of Daisy’s van. Lifting him off his feet Steve demanded. “What is going on here?" Coulson tried to free himself from Steve’s hold but he couldn’t.

“Phil,” the Asian woman called out turning toward them. She was half-way up the stairs weapon pointed at him when Steve heard Darcy’s cry of alarm. 

Things happened fast from that point. The woman shot Steve in the back. The pain of impact was instantaneous, but it was gone just as quick. The round was not usual. It must have been some sort of tranquilizer dart. It had no effect on him. Which, the woman must have realized because she emptied her clip into him. That had an effect. Steve felt his body begin to sag under his weight and he slumped at Coulson’s feet. Anger ripped through Steve as the agent left him beside the van with a muttered, "Sorry, Captain."

Darcy’s apartment door opened, striking the wall inside with force. A grappling pair of women emerged. Coulson moved toward the stairs calling, “Daisy!” Hearing her name surprised the girl and gave Darcy a momentary advantage. 

Darcy pushed Daisy away from her and tried to get back inside her apartment. Daisy reached out, grabbed her arm and swung Darcy back toward the railing. Steve was weak, pulling himself to his feet, unable to help when Darcy’s momentum forced her over the railing. What ever toxin they used on him was clearing his system but not fast enough for him to be able to save Darcy.

"Darcy!" Steve roared. 

“Darcy,” Flo’s frightened voice cried. Steve watched her running from her place by the dumpster to Darcy’s sprawled body. Daisy pulled something from her pocket; it glinted blue as she threw it at Darcy’s prone form. 

“No,” Steve yelled, forcing himself forward. But he was too clumsy from the lingering effects of the toxin. He couldn’t stop Flo from the crystal's exposure. It shattered into a dark mist rising up and engulfing the two women. Horrified Steve watched as both Darcy and Flo became encased in some sort of carbon.

“Flo,” Pops cried out. He was stepping out of the kitchen shotgun in hand. 

Pops,” Steve commanded, “Don’t move.” Stumbling to Pops’ side Steve put a restraining hand on his arm. “I need you to stay away until I know it is safe for you.”  
“But, Flo…”

“Darcy, too.” Steve nodded. “First, I need to help them.”

Pops nodded his agreement. Steve turned back to watch as Daisy thrust her palms out toward the woman on the stairs. Whatever power she used tossed the woman backward into Coulson. They went down in a heap, struggling to get to their feet, at the bottom of the stairs. Daisy nimbly hopped the railing and took off for her van. She was getting away. 

Inward cursing filled his mind. The lose of his shield felt keenly by Steve. He ran to engage the Inhuman as she neared the passenger side of the van. The girl could fight. She had training. She fought well but he was better. It was when she used her vibrations to strengthen her blows that Steve thought she might over power him. Daisy’s hands were against his chest. She was using her vibrations focused on his ribs and it ripped a tortured scream from his throat.

With everything that was inside him Steve forced his arms up. His forearms met Daisy’s; his brute strength winning out as his ribs buckled. He felt the bones in her arms give way beneath the shear force of his move. Steve couldn’t catch his breath. The pain in his chest immense. His vision was starting to grey at the edges but he would not allow Daisy to escape. Steve aimed a punch to the side of her head that caused pain to grind through his abused chest. He rendered the Inhuman girl unconscious. 

“Steve,” he thought he heard Darcy cry out as he fell gasping to his knees and the world went black.


	7. It's Elemental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful Glynnista8 did a quick review and suggested a few technical changes. I think I got them all, but having said that...Anything wrong is all on me. Enjoy!
> 
> I feel into using the French girl cliche I couldn't help myself.

Pain.

The first thing Steve was aware of was the deep ache in his chest. Bones knitting and punctured lungs restored. Heartbeat racing Steve inhaled as deep as his abused chest would allow. 

Voices.

The second thing Steve became aware of was the hushed voices. Two across the room, Coulson and the Asian woman. One, the Inhuman, crying in the corner to Steve’s left. “He’ll come for me…He will. He cares about me…He’ll come!”

“No. May,” Coulson wasn’t pleased. “Absolutely not!”

“Coulson,” The other voice, Coulson’s trigger happy friend, had a pleading tone to it. “We need him. Listen to her. She’s under Hive’s Sway. She isn’t your Daisy. She’s not Agent Johnson. She’s Hive’s tool. Daisy is compromised. Andrew thinks he can help her.”

“He’s a danger,” Coulson insisted. “You saw what he is capable of.”

“Well, he’s already on his way.” May informed the man. “Simmons is bringing him.”

“Dammit, May!”

Movement on the mattress beside him caught Steve’s attention. He was on Darcy’s sofa bed. That was good. At least Coulson didn’t cart him off to the Raft. The scents of gun oil mixed with familiar aftershave and perspiration identified Pops. As sure as the cadence of the man’s breathing was familiar. That calmed Steve, but something, someone was missing. Stilling his breathing. Steve concentrated and listened intent on searching out Darcy’s gentle sighing breaths. He tried to hear Flo’s rasping cigarette labored breathing. He found nothing. Darcy and Flo are not among the people surrounding him. His mind raced. Where was Darcy? Flo? Are they safe? Steve’s heart clenched. Are they dead?

Taking a deep, painful breath Steve opened his eyes and tried to sit up. Pain lanced through his chest as the mending bones scraped against one another. He needed to find Darcy.

“No, son.” Pops ordered, quiet. “Stay still.” The older man pressed a gentle hand to Steve’s shoulder holding him still.

“Pops,” Steve breathed with a groan. Reaching out he grasped Pops’ arm. He needed to know what happened after he lost consciousness. “How long was I out?”

“An hour.” Pops murmured looking at his watch. “You had me worried for a few minutes there. You were coughing up blood when you went down.” Steve nodded. 

He could still taste the copper tang on his tongue. He was surprised to have awakened after only an hour. Steve was pretty sure the Inhuman girl crushed his ribs. Fending her off sent shards of bone ripping through his lungs, maybe even his heart. His body usually shut down longer when the damage was severe. 

“Tell me what happened. Where are Darcy and Flo?” Steve was aware of Coulson and May approaching the sofa bed but he ignored them for the moment.

Pops laid the shotgun across his lap and covered Steve’s hand with his calloused one. Shaking his head Pops answered with a pain filled voice. “Darcy she—she’s okay.” The older man shrugged. “Been hold up in the bathroom since she got you into the bed. She came out of that –whatever—that was different.” Steve’s eyes widened. He felt his chest tighten. Darcy survived the Mist but she was changed. 

Swallowing Steve asked. “Different?”

“I don’t know, son.” Pops shrugged sighing tiredly. “She moved you and that—that girl in here without touching you.” Tossing his head toward the sobbing girl in the corner Pops continued. Steve followed the movement and let his eyes find Daisy. There were bands of ghostly white pinning the girl in the corner. “Got you on the bed, trapped her in that corner and ordered me to make sure that the M.I.B’s didn’t try to cart you off to prison. She was crying the whole time like every movement was painful.”

“An—and Flo?” 

Pops chest hitched and tears sprang to the older man’s eyes. “She—my Flo—she’s gone.” The heartbroken tone spurred Steve up off the bed. He reached out, ignoring the pain in his body, and embraced Pops. “Dammit, son, I told you not to move!”

“I’m fine,” Steve sighed. “I’ll live.” He always lived. Steve felt his own eyes grow wet with tears but they didn’t fall. Two days, that was how long Steve had known Darcy, Flo and Pops. Two days and he shared a bond that felt weeks, months in the making. He held Pops letting the man cry for the woman he loved and lost. Flo…Gentle, kind Flo that smiled through Devon the demon’s antics and taught an oaf to wait tables. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured. He felt ashamed. Because as much as he was sad for Flo’s death he was equally happy that Darcy was alive. She was alive and well in the bathroom. “Flo, she is—was a wonderful woman.”

“She didn’t deserve this.” Pops’ arms tightened around Steve. He had to bite down on his lips to keep the grunt of pain inside. Steve must not have succeeded because Pops pulled away eyes stricken. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” 

“Captain Rogers?” The reverential tone in Coulson’s voice grated at Steve’s nerves. It was like the bones in his chest scraping against one another. 

“Come now, Phillip.” Steve glanced at Coulson before letting his eyes move to the girl huddled in the corner. “You can call me Steve.” Steve made a sweeping gesture with his right hand. “After all you watched me while I was sleeping, listened to me taking a leak every morning, too. I bet.” Steve turned narrow eyes on the man. Coulson’s stunned silence and the flush that crept over his ears told Steve he was correct. Nodding, disdainful Steve continued. “When things went to hell in a hand basket Fury told me my place was bugged. Of course, it was Pierce that told me it was Fury’s doing. Which, means you.” 

“Captain,” Coulson had the good grace to look ashamed as he tried to speak.

“No, I am no longer part of the military and SHIELD is supposed to be defunct.” Steve's voice cold. He stood straighter. He wrapped his arms in protective bands around his healing chest. “I went to your funeral. Sat behind a lovely woman who sobbed her heart out with your mother. I even drank a toast to your memory with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. If all that doesn’t put us on a first name basis, Phillip, I don’t know what will.” 

“Steve,” Coulson sighed. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“You should be,” Steve growled, rounding on the shorter man. “From your conversation earlier I can only assume that Fury’s word is as true as his death. Because I made it perfectly clear that SHIELD was over. I burnt it to the ground. It was supposed to remain ashes but here you are. And your agent attacked my friends. She forced Darcy to go through the Terrigen Mist and in doing so killed an innocent civilian.” 

“This isn’t Daisy,” Coulson sighed. “She would never do this if Hive didn’t have his hooks in her.”

“That’s convenient,” Steve murmured, eyes narrowing on the girl across the room.

“As convenient as Sgt. Barnes’ situation.” Coulson snapped. 

The agent was very protective of Daisy. Steve tried to ignore the defensive reaction his mind had to Coulson’s jibe, but his body went rigid. 

“You’ve got nerve,” Steve growled. “Zola was working for SSR and then SHIELD. Bucky was being kept frozen in a box or strapped into a chair having his brain emptied out. Any blood on Bucky’s hands can be laid at SHIELD’s feet.”

“SHIELD would never…” Coulson tried to defend the organization.

“Months ago I wouldn’t have thought SHIELD was full of HYDRA goons.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand. “I brought down those Helo-Carriers because HYDRA planned to use them. They were going to wipe out millions of innocent people all over the world.”

“That was HYDRA,” Coulson tried to reason with Steve. “SHIELD built those Carriers to protect the world.”

“Fury, himself told me that the Helo-Carriers were supposed to take out threats. Take them out before they even happened,” Steve almost shouted. “SHIELD may have prettied up the words but they were after the same things as HYDRA.”

“There are bigger threats out there,” May interjected. “You have seen them. Fought against things not of this world. SHIELD under Director Coulson is not the same.”

“What makes you any different than Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, Director Coulson.”

“I am cleaning out the bases.” Coulson assured. “The world needs SHIELD. Like it needs the Avengers.”

“Forgive me agent if your assurances bare little weight with me.” Steve huffed, voice lowering. “Look around you, Director. The Avengers can’t even help themselves.” Steve shook his head, thrust a hand out and pointed an accusing finger at Daisy. “Things have happened, Coulson, that I am responsible for. Because the Avengers are my team. I was in command when Tony and Bruce created Ultron. An artificial intelligence that destroyed an entire country. The world is clambering for Accords and Sanctions. Because of actions like the ones taken by your agent.”

“I know things, right now, are grim.” Coulson murmured pinching the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t change the fact that the world is going to need all the help it can get.”

“Grim,” Steve scoffed. “I am on the U.S. Government’s top-ten most wanted list because I refuse to allow someone else to decide when and if I act. I won’t sign the Sokovia Accords and if I am needed I will act even if it is contrary to political opinion. Because I disagree, on principal. I won't give any government control over whether I do good in the world.”

“The Accords are about accountability.” Coulson shook his head.

“No,” Steve denied. “There is already accountability. Inhuman, mutant and enhanced human beings are still human. The average human would be up in arms. Having to submit to being catalogued. Their strengths and weaknesses documented and added to a list.”

“The list is to keep people safe.”

“I’m sure that’s what Hitler told the German people. To justify the internment camps.” Steve stepped around the two SHIELD agents. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I want to check on Darcy.”

“Darcy,” Steve called tapping on the door. He could hear the shower running but the sounds were all wrong. It was too quiet and that was frightening. It made his stomach clench and his heart clamber in his chest. Raising his voice Steve tried again. “Darcy, can I come in?”

“Yeah,” her voice muffled by the door. The sound of it sent relief straight to his heart. “C’mon in.”

Turning the knob and pushing the door open Steve stepped into the bathroom. Unlike the dimly lit living area the bathroom was bright with fluorescent bulbs. He found her sitting in the shower stall. Her knees under her chin and her arms in front of her. The clothes she wore earlier sat in the far corner in a haphazard pile. 

Steve watched as water from the shower head danced around Darcy, defying gravity. She was perfectly dry beneath the spray. Each droplet swirling like tiny diamonds. They rushed together. A flick of her fingers formed snake-like ribbons of blue-green glowing water.

“You okay?” He asked. Moving to sit beside the open shower stall leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“I guess,” Darcy shrugged. “My clothes were like sandpaper scraping my skin until it bled.”

“What,” Steve straightened, reaching toward her. She shied away from his hand so Steve let it fall back to his lap. “Let me see.”

“I’m not showing you my boobs, Rogers.” Darcy laughed. Her voice trembled slightly but she tried for a teasing tone. “You have to at least buy a girl dinner first.” 

Steve watched as she flicked a droplet of water at his chest. It flew sideways hitting him with a little more solidity than a mere dot of water should have. The droplet dispersed on contact with his shirt making a wet spot on the material. It didn’t hurt Steve. Darcy hadn’t meant it to. 

“Technically,” Steve adopted Darcy’s teasing tone. “I bought you dinner and a movie.” 

Absently, Steve let his hand come up and rub the wet spot. Wincing when the move stretched his chest muscles. His ribs were still mending. Steve knew he should be lying down. He was a long way from healed. Daisy was ruthless in a fight. Thinking about his injuries reminded him that Darcy was thrown off the first story landing.

“Darcy I saw you go over the railing.” Steve raised concerned eyes to meet Darcy’s. She swallowed convulsively and Steve could almost feel her anxiety. “You didn’t move.”

“It’s healed,” Darcy told him seriously. “The water feels good.” 

Darcy was trying to distract him. As she spoke the glowing water slid along Darcy’s naked body. Frowning in concentration Darcy slowly unfolded her limbs. The water clung to her like draped silk. Steve guessed her distraction was working. The blue-green glow adding opacity to the normally clear liquid. It covered her breasts, hips and thighs but left enticing areas naked. She looked otherworldly. The effect was…It was…

“Beautiful,” Steve murmured, blushing. 

His artist’s eyes took in the ethereal picture she made and knew he could never do it justice. The eyes of the man awed at the tempting sight and could only drink it in. Her modesty was perfectly preserved by undulating sheets of water. But Steve found himself having to reign in his baser instincts.

“Thanks,” Darcy smiled, shy. 

“You’re trying to distract me.” His tone edged his words toward what Tony called his Captain voice.

“Is it working?” Darcy asked, hopeful.

Remembering something from his early days with the Avengers. The days before Natasha started trying to find him dates. He had allowed her and Pepper to wrangle him into watching movies. Tony had called it an epic chick flick of doom, but Pepper and Nat argued it was cinematic gold. 

“Well,” he let his eyes skim over her from the top of her tousled head to the tips of her toes. Giving Darcy what he hoped was a boyish smile. “I want to draw you like a French girl, so…” Steve let his words trail off. He noted the blush that started on her chest work its way up her neck to her cheeks. 

“I—uh—what?” Darcy stammered. Steve’s smile grew wider. She was adorable when she was flustered.

“We’ll get to that later.” He winked. Brushing her question aside. “Right now I need to know what happened.” Steve let the smile fall from his lips as he broached a painful subject. “Pops told me about Flo.” Darcy’s face crumpled and a sob tore from her throat. She turned her face to the wall and wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. “I’m sorry, Darcy.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered, tears evident in her voice. Steve felt his heart twist and it was nothing to do with his healing. “Darcy,” he murmured. Wanting to comfort her Steve reached out. He stopped short of actually touching her without permission. “It's not your fault.”

“Steve,” she whispered. Turning teary eyes on him. Seeing his outstretched hand Darcy’s tears increased. Misunderstanding, Steve started to pull his hand away. Darcy’s small hands whipped out capturing it and pulling his hand to her face. Steve felt his eyes well up at the smooth softness of her skin and her hot grief spilling across his fingers.

“No,” Steve denied keeping his voice low. Letting his thumb sweep under her eye tracing the fragile bone beneath the apple of her cheek. “This is on Daisy. Or, if Coulson is to be believed someone named Hive.”

“Hive,” Darcy frowned. “Daisy talked about him. That is what caused the fight. She kept going on about how pleased he would be with my transformation.” Darcy closed her eyes and nestled her cheek into his large hand. “It was all a little too drink the Kool-Aid For me.”

“You did pretty good getting her out of the apartment,” Steve praised.

“If I’d stayed inside,” Darcy muttered. Her breaths hitching. “Flo would be safe downstairs right now instead of—of—like that.”

“Don’t,” Steve shook his head. “We can’t play what if it will only make living hard. It paralyzes. People like us need to be able to act.”

“People like us,” Darcy laughed. It sounded hollow. “I can’t stand the feel of my clothes. I’m wearing water like a bathing suit for Thor’s sake!”

“You’ll learn,” Steve told her confidently. Remembering what Pops told him Steve tilted his head thoughtfully. “Pops said you moved Daisy and me inside without touching us.” 

“It was the air,” she told him, swallowing hard. “I could feel it like water around me. I don’t know how I did it.” She shook her head. “No, I do. It was a thought. Just a fleeting image in my mind of needing to get you off the hard ground. The air around you became solid. I could feel it waiting, ready to do what I needed.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiled. He kept his voice gentle. “I know Daisy did this to you without your consent.” He stroked his fingers along her cheek and then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I am sorry I didn’t protect you and Flo better.”

“You did what you could,” Darcy sighed. “You warned me about her but I wanted a friend.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting companionship.” Steve countered grasping her chin. Now that she had given him permission to touch her he could not seem to stop. 

“But I had you,” Darcy muttered, frowning.

“Yeah,” Steve acknowledged, “But you couldn’t paint my nails, braid my hair or talk about my rockin’ bod.” Darcy gasped embarrassment staining her cheeks. Steve laughed and ducked away when she sent a golf ball sized blob of blue-green toward his head. “Hey, I was only repeating what you said to Daisy.”

“I did not say you have a rockin’ bod!”

“No,” he agreed, “You actually said, and I quote, ‘We can paint our nails. And talk about Steve-o’s killer abs and those damned collar bones that are way too tempting for any girl’s sanity.’”

“Oh, my god!” Darcy cried covering her face with her hands. “Do you remember everything you hear?”

“Of course,” he nodded, smiling at her reaction. “I remember everything.”

Darcy lowered her hands and looked at Steve. Her eyes studying him seriously for a few moments. “I bet that isn’t always a good thing.”

“No,” Steve murmured, surprised by her perceptiveness. “Sometimes it hurts; like watching you fall. Seeing the Mist engulf you and Flo. Knowing Daisy forced it on you.”

Glancing away Darcy caught water droplets in her palms. “I think what I am most upset about is that I wanted to go through the Mist.” Darcy met his gaze expecting him to be appalled. “She told me Jiaying was her mother. Showed me the Terrigen Crystal and offered it to me. If she hadn’t freaked me out. Rhapsodizing about that guy like a fanatic. I would probably have ended up part of Hive’s cult.”

“No,” Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yes,” Darcy countered. “Daisy is different than I remember. She was kind and super independent. Hive took that from her…changed her. He could have done the same thing to me.”

“Just because you wanted what she offered,” Steve brushed his fingertips along her chin and then pulled his hand into his lap. “Isn’t a bad thing. Doctor Erskine offered to give me a body that matched my spirit. I leapt at the chance.”

“You were always you,” Darcy told him frowning.

“I was,” he nodded. “Before the serum my body was weak, but inside. Well, inside I felt this overwhelming strength waiting to be realized. I hated bullies. Fought them with everything in me. Bucky had to pull my bacon from the fire more often than I like to admit. I couldn’t back down because I needed to prove I was more than my frail body. Now, my body is what science made but my inner spirit is who I was born to be. You were born with this extraordinary part of you waiting to be activated.” Gesturing to her Steve smiled. “This is who you were born to be.”

“I—I feel like I’m betraying Flo,” she admitted. “Like reveling in this is wrong.” She sent the ball of water in her hand bouncing around the shower stall. 

“It isn’t,” he sighed. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Things that we can’t control, but we still try. As much as I hate what Daisy has done I am going to try to free her. In doing so other people may be hurt. Maybe killed like Flo but we have a responsibility to those weaker than us to save as many as we can.”

“Pops is scared of me.” Darcy whispered. 

“No,” Shaking his head Steve told her thoughtfully. “He is grieving and he is not used to seeing things like what happened. He accepts me. He will accept you, too.”

They were silent for long minutes while they both thought about the events of the night. Steve watched Darcy idly forming the water around her into whirling shapes. Studying her carefully he asked, “How do you keep the water around you like that and still play with the rest?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy answered. She seemed startled. “I told it to cover me. I think it will do that until I tell it otherwise.”

“Amazing,” Steve smiled. “Is that how you trapped Daisy in the corner? You just told the air to cage her in and it did?”

“Yeah,” Darcy tilted her head. “I can’t believe it is still active. I have not thought about it since I left the room.” Her eyes grew distant and he could almost feel her searching out the connection with the air around Daisy. They heard an agonizing cry from the other room that caused them both to flinch. Darcy’s eyes widened and her cheeks suffused with a blush of shame. 

“What happened?” He asked keeping his tone neutral. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Darcy admitted. “I just tightened the air around her.”

“Well,” Steve explained, “I broke her arms defending myself.”

“She must not heal like us,” Darcy murmured, thoughtful.

“You’re sure you heal?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded. He saw a shadow of remembered pain in her eyes. “I know I was hurt pretty bad when I hit the ground. Once I broke free of the cocoon I was healed.”

“Is healing an effect of the Terrigen Mist? A temporary part of the transformation?” Steve eyed her carefully. The slight rosy-tint left on her skin by the hot coffee was gone, too. “Or could it be permanent?”

“I’m not sure,” She shrugged. “I kind of hope it's permanent.”

“Me, too.” Darcy smiled at his emphatic statement. 

“The world is a dangerous place.” Steve smiled shrugging. “It would be a relief not to worry about you being harmed irreparably.”

“I have to admit that it is good seeing you able to move on your own.” She reached out and pressed her hand softly to the center of his chest. “When I first saw you after the cocoon your chest was—it was horrible.” She shuddered. Steve could imagine the mangled mess his chest had been after Daisy crushed his ribs. Placing his hand over Darcy’s he stroked the back with his long fingers.

“I won’t say it was an easy experience,” Steve murmured, “it hurt. It always hurts when I heal, but I always heal. I want that for you. Just maybe not the painful part.”

Steve grasped her hand and pulled it to his mouth brushing a kiss over her fingertips. He felt connected to Darcy. It felt like a part of him deep inside was finally complete. His feelings were frightening. 

“I won’t be greedy,” Darcy sighed, smiling up at him. “I will be happy to have healing be part of my transformation.”

In his life he had only loved a select few people. It seemed to Steve that the people that cared about him ended up paying the price by fair means or foul. His mother, a woman that worked her fingers to the bone sacrificing to raise a sickly little boy after her husband died. Sarah Rogers died of tuberculosis after years of fighting its effects. Bucky a brother always at Steve’s back trying to keep him out of trouble. For his efforts Bucky ended up tortured and maimed. Peggy a bright spot that was never meant to burn for him. She lived a good life but Alzheimer's took her mind in the end. Was Darcy for him? He could hope.

“Me, too.” His words made Darcy smile beatifically.

“I feel like I’ve known you for years.” Darcy timidly pressed her fingers to his lips as she spoke. 

“It’s the same for me.” Steve mumbled against her fingers closing his eyes. Sighing deeply he kissed the tips again. He pulled her hand away and twined their fingers. “We need to get ready. Daisy is convinced Hive will come for her.”

“What do you think?” Darcy asked, frowning.

“I think,” Steve muttered letting his head fall back against the wall. “The answer to that question is yes.”

“What can we do,” Darcy tensed.

“We need to plan.” Steve rolled his neck breathing deep. “Your powers are an unknown.” 

Cupping her hand Darcy summoned a liquid ball to hover over her palm and lifted it for Steve’s inspection. Tentatively Steve reached out and ran his fingers over the rippling ball of water. It felt hard against the pads of his fingers, smooth like glass but more flexible. 

“Incredible,” Steve praised. “We know you have control of air and water. Can you make a ball of water and another of air at the same time?” 

“I think so,” Darcy frowned. She pulled her hand from his. Steve watched, intent as she lifted her hands palms up. A ball of silvery mist formed in the right and a blue-green orb flowed into the left.

“Amazing,” Steve breathed. Reaching out he tested the solidity of both. They were firm but still had some give. “Can you make them more solid?” Darcy bit her lip nodding. In her hands the elemental orbs became more opaque. Steve grasped each squeezing with all his might. They remained perfectly formed. Releasing them Steve let his mind marvel at the shear genius of her gift. The offensive and defensive capability of the orbs was staggering. Especially if they remained solid without her touch; like with Daisy’s cage. “I want to test something.”

“What?” she asked lifting her eyes to Steve's.

“Will they stay that way if I’m holding it?” Steve caressed the orb careful not to touch Darcy’s fingers.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Try them.”

Steve slowly wrapped his fingers around the elements and lifted them from Darcy’s palms. They stayed just as firm and opaque in his large hands as they had in hers. Steve hefted them testing their weight. 

“They feel heavy,” he noted. “Like you added mass to them by making them solid.”

“No, I haven’t changed the mass.” Darcy shook her head. “It weighs more because of the force my will must be exerting over the elements.” She smiled sheepish. “Jane explained the difference between mass and weight to me once.”

“Science isn’t my thing,” Steve acknowledged shrugging. His smile was rueful. Giving the orbs back to Darcy he gestured toward the skimpy bands of water protecting her modesty. “Try clothing yourself.” he suggested. 

“Like what a dress?” Darcy blushed. Her gaze falling to the bands of blue-green.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Try a catsuit like the one Natasha wears. Something you would wear if you were going into battle.”

“Using water or the air?” 

Steve thought about her question for a moment. He was hopeful that Darcy would be able to don normal clothing again. If the elemental clothes were possible Darcy would need to be able to call them at anytime. Water was not always present but air was everywhere.

“Air,” he answered after a moment. “If this works I want to test the durability. It would be good if you can summon armor from thin air.”

Darcy closed her eyes, brow furrowed and soon Steve could see ghostly white forming along her arms and legs. She opened her eyes to watch the air around her solidify into a second skin along her body. Her concentration on the water wavered. It fell away from her skin. Leaving her female parts exposed for a few moments before silvery-white covered her body completely. 

“The hell!” Darcy squawked and Steve quickly closed his eyes. It was too late though because he had gotten a good view of her lovely breasts. Steve couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. “What are you smiling about?” Darcy smacked him in the chest making him groan but not managing to erase the image of her from his mind’s eye. 

“I definitely want to draw you like a French girl, now.” Steve admitted. 

“You’re a jerk,” she huffed.

“Hey!” He yelped when a cascade of cold water slashed over him. His eyes snapped open. 

“You seemed to need a cold shower, Soldier.” Darcy told him archly. 

She stood before him clothed in a silvery-opaque catsuit that left nothing to the imagination. Steve pushed himself to his feet drenched from head to toe. Eyes wide he took a step away from the shower stall. He felt like his tongue was too big for his mouth. He couldn’t swallow and Steve was pretty sure he had stopped breathing. He hoped like hell she was able to find normal clothes to wear. There was no way he would be able to function with her dressed like that. He lifted his hands toward her without consciously deciding to touch her. Blushing, he dropped them back to his sides when his brain caught up with his movements. 

Darcy laughed at his gobsmacked expression. She turned the shower off and stepped out of the stall. That put her very close to Steve. His eyes followed her as she moved to stand just in front of him. 

“You said you wanted to test the durability.” Darcy reminded him taking Steve’s hand in hers and pressing it to the curve of her waist. Steve was suddenly able to breathe and he had to swallow down an inarticulate sound that worked its way up his throat. Unlike the glassy feel of the water formed by her the air was velvety in texture. She urged his hand to slide along her side making them both gasp.

“Darcy,” Steve groaned. His other hand went to her cheek cupping it gently. Letting his head fall forward he asked, “May I kiss you, please?”

She nodded uttering a barely understandable, “Yes, please!”

Steve felt his heart swell and he couldn’t contain his happy smile. Running his fingers along her delicate cheek Steve threaded them up into her hair. Easing closer he gently pressed his lips to hers. Darcy sighed bringing her hands to rest on his waist. Steve trembled, tilting his head and brushing his lips softly across hers. This was the first time he had initiated a kiss and it thrilled him. Steve was sliding his hand from her waist to her back when a knock sounded at the door.


End file.
